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Book___i_ 


(kpigtit’N?.__. 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSUi 

























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J(?3 

3U1Z 











“ WITH GREAT RAPIDITY THE FLAMES SPREAD FROM HOUSE TO HOUSE, 











WHEN LONDON BURNED 


A STORY OF 

RESTORATION TIMES AND THE GREAT FIRE 


BY 

G ; 1 A. HENTY 

Author of “ Beric the Briton,” “ By Pike and Dyke,” “ One of the 28th,” “ The Lion of 
St. Mark,” “ In the Reign of Terror,” “ The Dash for Khartoum,” &c. 


. ^ 0f: 

BRIGHT 


SEP 22 i894) 


WITH TWELVE PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS BY J. FINNEMORE 


NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 



COPYRIGHT, 1894, BY 
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 


/t-3Y/< 




PREFACE 


We are accustomed to regard the Reign of Charles II. as one 
of the most inglorious periods of English History; but this was 
far from being the case. It is true that the extravagance and 
profligacy of the Court were carried to a point unknown before 
or since, forming, — by the indignation they excited among the 
people at large,—the main cause of the overthrow of the House 
of Stuart. But, on the other hand, the nation made extraor¬ 
dinary advances in commerce and wealth, while the valour of 
our sailors was as conspicuous under the Dukes of York and 
Albemarle, Prince Rupert and the Earl of Sandwich, as it had 
been under Blake himself, and their victories resulted in trans¬ 
ferring the commercial as well as the naval supremacy of 
Holland to this country. In spite of the cruel blows inflicted 
on the well-being of the country, alike by the extravagance of 
the Court, the badness of the Government, the Great Plague, 
and the destruction of London by fire, an extraordinary exten¬ 
sion of our trade occurred during the reign of Charles II. 
Such a period, therefore, although its brilliancy was marred by 
dark shadows, cannot be considered as an inglorious epoch. 
It was ennobled by the bravery of our sailors, by the fearlessness 
with which the coalition of France with Holland was faced, 
and by the spirit of enterprise with which our merchants and 
traders seized the opportunity, and, in spite of national misfor¬ 
tunes, raised England in the course of a few years to the rank 
of the greatest commercial power in the world. 

c G. A. HENTY. 




CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I. 

Fatherless . 







PAGE 

II 

II. 

A Change for the Better 




. 



34 

III. 

A Thief Somewhere . 







52 

IV. 

Captured 







7i 

V. 

Kidnapped 







90 

VI. 

A Narrow Escape 







no 

VII. 

Saved from a Villain . 







128 

VIII. 

The Captain’s Yarn 







146 

IX. 

The Fire in the Savoy 







166 

X. 

How John Wilkes fought 

THE 

Dutch 




175 

XI. 

Prince Rupert 







185 

XII. 

New Friends 







2°3 

XIII. 

The Battle of Lowestoft 







221 

XIV. 

Honourable Scars 







239 

XV. 

The Plague . 







257 

XVI. 

Father and Son . 







276 

XVII. 

Smitten Down 







295 

XVIII. 

A Stroke of Good Fortune 






313 

XIX. 

Taking Possession 







331 

XX. 

The Fight off Dunkirk 







348 

XXI. 

London in Flames 

• 

• 





365 

XXII. 

After the Fire . 

o 

e 





383 


7 


































































ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ With great rapidity the flames spread from house to 
house Frontispiece 

“Don’t cry, lad; you will get on better without me” 

“ This is my Prince of Scriveners, Mary ” 

“ Robert Ashford, knife in hand, attacked John Wilkes 

WITH FURY ”. 

“ Cyril sat up and drank off the contents of the pannikin ” 
“ For Heaven’s sake, sir, do not cause trouble ” . 

“Take her down quick, John, there are three others” 

“ Cyril raised the king’s hand to his lips ” . 

“ A Dutch man-of-war ran alongside and fired a broadside ” 
“For the last time: Will you sign the deed?” . 

“ Welcome back to your own again, Sir Cyril ! ” . 

“What news, James?” the king asked eagerly 


PAGE 

372 

25 

35 

79 

97 

I2 5 

171 

191 

239 

283 

333 

359 


9 




WHEN LONDON BURNED 


CHAPTER I 

FATHERLESS 

LAD stood looking out of the dormer window in 
a scantily furnished attic in the high-pitched roof 
of a house in Holborn, in September 1664 . Num¬ 
bers of persons were traversing the street below, 
many of them going out through the bars, fifty yards away, 
into the fields beyond, where some sports were being held 
that morning, while country people were coming in with 
their baskets from the villages of Highgate and Hampstead, 
Tyburn and Bayswater. But the lad noted nothing that was 
going on; his eyes were filled with tears, and his thoughts 
were in the little room behind him; for here, coffined in 
readiness for burial, lay the body of his father. 

Sir Aubrey Shenstone had not been a good father in any 
sense of the word. He had not been harsh or cruel, but he 
had altogether neglected his son. Beyond the virtues of loy¬ 
alty and courage, he possessed few others. He had fought, 
as a young man, for Charles, and even among the Cavaliers 
who rode behind Prince Rupert was noted for reckless brav¬ 
ery. When, on the fatal field of Worcester, the last hopes of 

11 







12 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


the Royalists were crushed, he had effected his escape to 
France and taken up his abode at Dunkirk. His estates had 
been forfeited; and after spending the proceeds of his wife’s 
jewels and those he had carried about with him in case for¬ 
tune went against the cause for which he fought, he sank lower 
and lower, and had for years lived on the scanty pension 
allowed by Louis to the King and his adherents. 

Sir Aubrey had been one of the wild, reckless spirits whose 
conduct did much towards setting the people of England 
against the cause of Charles. He gambled and drank, inter¬ 
larded his conversation with oaths, and despised as well as 
hated the Puritans against whom he fought. Misfortune did 
not improve him; he still drank when he had money to do 
so, gambled for small sums in low taverns with men of his 
own kind, and quarrelled and fought on the smallest provoca¬ 
tion. Had it not been for his son he would have taken ser¬ 
vice in the army of some foreign Power; but he could not 
take the child about with him, nor could he leave it behind. 

Sir Aubrey was not altogether without good points. He 
would divide his last crown with a comrade poorer than him¬ 
self. In the worst of times he was as cheerful as when money 
was plentiful, making a joke of his necessities and keeping a 
brave face to the world. 

Wholly neglected by his father, who spent the greater por¬ 
tion of his time abroad, Cyril would have fared badly indeed 
had it not been for the kindness of Lady Parton, the wife of 
a Cavalier of very different type to Sir Aubrey. He had 
been an intimate friend of Lord Falkland, and, like that 
nobleman, had drawn his sword with the greatest reluctance, 
and only when he saw that Parliament was bent upon over¬ 
throwing the other two estates in the realm and constituting 
itself the sole authority in England. After the execution of 
Charles he had retired to France, and did not take part in 
the later risings, but lived a secluded life with his wife and 
children. The eldest of these was of the same age as Cyril; 
and as the latter’s mother had been a neighbour of hers be- 


FATHERLESS 


13 


fore marriage, Lady Parton promised her, on her death-bed, 
to look after the child, a promise that she faithfully kept. 

Sir John Parton had always been adverse to the association 
of his boy with the son of Sir Aubrey Shenstone; but he had 
reluctantly yielded to his wife’s wishes, and Cyril passed the 
greater portion of his time at their house, sharing the lessons 
Harry received from an English clergyman who had been 
expelled from his living by the fanatics of Parliament. He 
was a good and pious man, as well as an excellent scholar, and 
under his teaching, aided by the gentle precepts of Lady Par- 
ton, and the strict but kindly rule of her husband, Cyril re¬ 
ceived a training of a far better kind than he would ever have 
been likely to obtain had he been brought up in his father’s 
house near Norfolk. Sir Aubrey exclaimed sometimes that 
the boy was growing up a little Puritan, and had he taken 
more interest in his welfare would .undoubtedly have with¬ 
drawn him from the healthy influences that were benefiting 
him so greatly; but, with the usual acuteness of children, 
Cyril soon learnt that any allusion to his studies or his life at 
Sir John Parton’s was disagreeable to his father, and therefore 
seldom spoke of them. 

Sir Aubrey was never, even when under the influence of his 
potations, unkind to Cyril. The boy bore a strong likeness 
to his mother, whom his father had, in his rough way, really 
loved passionately. He seldom spoke even a harsh word to 
him, and although he occasionally expressed his disapproval 
of the teaching he was receiving, was at heart not sorry to see 
the boy growing up so different from himself; and Cyril, in 
spite of his father’s faults, loved him. When Sir Aubrey came 
back with unsteady step, late at night, and threw himself on 
his pallet, Cyril would say to himself, “Poor father! How 
different he would have been had it not been for his misfor¬ 
tunes ! He is to be pitied rather than blamed! ” And so, as 
years went on, in spite of the difference between their natures, 
there had grown up a sort of fellowship between the two; and 
of an evening sometimes, when his father’s purse was so low 


14 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


that he could not indulge in his usual stoup of wine at the 
tavern, they would sit together while Sir Aubrey talked of his 
fights and adventures. 

“As to the estates, Cyril,” he said one day, “I don’t know 
that Cromwell and his Roundheads have done you much 
harm. I should have run through them, lad — I should have 
diced them away years ago — and I am not sure but that their 
forfeiture has been a benefit to you. If the King ever gets 
his own, you may come to the estates; while, if I had had the 
handling of them, the usurers would have had such a grip on 
them that you would never have had a penny of the income.” 

“It doesn’t matter, father,” the boy replied. “I mean to 
be a soldier some day, as you have been, and I shall take ser¬ 
vice with some of the Protestant Princes of Germany; or, if I 
can’t do that, I shall be able to work my way somehow.” 

“What can you work at, lad?” his father said, contemptu¬ 
ously. 

“ I don’t know yet, father; but I shall find some work to do.” 

Sir Aubrey was about to burst into a tirade against work, 
but he checked himself. If Cyril never came into the estates 
he would have to earn his living somehow. 

“All right, my boy. But do you stick to your idea of 
earning your living by your sword; it is a gentleman’s profes¬ 
sion, and I would rather see you eating dry bread as a soldier 
of fortune than prospering in some vile trading business.” 

Cyril never argued with his father, and he simply nodded 
an assent and then asked some question that turned Sir 
Aubrey’s thoughts on other matters. 

The news that Monk had declared for the King, and that 
Charles would speedily return to take his place on his father’s 
throne, caused great excitement among the Cavaliers scattered 
over the Continent; and as soon as the matter was settled, all 
prepared to return to England, in the full belief that their 
evil days were over, and that they would speedily be restored 
to their former estates, with honours and rewards for their 
many sacrifices. 


FATHERLESS 


15 


“ I must leave you behind for a short time, Cyril,” his father 
said to the boy, when he came in one afternoon. “ I must be 
in London before the King arrives there, to join in his wel¬ 
come home, and for the moment I cannot take you; I shall 
be busy from morning till night. Of course, in the pressure 
of things at first it will be impossible for the King to do every¬ 
thing at once, and it may be a few weeks before all these 
Roundheads can be turned out of the snug nests they have 
made for themselves, and the rightful owners come to their 
own again. As I have no friends in London, I should have 
nowhere to bestow you, until I can take you down with me to 
Norfolk to present you to our tenants, and you would be 
grievously in my way; but as soon as things are settled I will 
write to you or come over myself to fetch you. In the mean¬ 
time I must think over where I had best place you. It will 
not matter for so short a time, but I would that you should be 
as comfortable as possible. Think it over yourself, and let 
me know if you have any wishes in the matter. Sir John 
Parton leaves at the end of the week, and ere another fort¬ 
night there will be scarce another Englishman left at 
Dunkirk.” 

“ Don’t you think you can take me with you, father? ” 

“ Impossible,” Sir Aubrey said shortly. “ Lodgings will be 
at a great price in London, for the city will be full of people 
from all parts coming up to welcome the King home. I can 
bestow myself in a garret anywhere, but I could not leave you 
there all day. Besides, I shall have to get more fitting 
clothes, and shall have many expenses. You are at home 
here, and will not feel it dull for the short time you have to 
remain behind.” 

Cyril said no more, but went up, with a heavy heart, for his 
last day’s lessons at the Partons’. Young as he was, he was 
accustomed to think for himself, for it was but little guidance 
he received from his father; and after his studies were over he 
laid the case before his master, Mr. Felton, and asked if 
he could advise him. Mr. Felton was himself in high spirits, 


16 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


and was hoping to be speedily reinstated in his living. He 
looked grave when Cyril told his story. 

“ I think it is a pity that your father, Sir Aubrey, does not 
take you over with him, for it will assuredly take longer to 
bring all these matters into order than he seems to think. 
However, that is his affair. I should think he could not do 
better for you than place you with the people where I 
lodge. You know them, and they are a worthy couple; the 
husband is, as you know, a fisherman, and you and Harry 
Parton have often been out with him in his boat, so it would 
not be like going among strangers. Continue your studies. 
I should be sorry to think that you were forgetting all that you 
have learnt. I will take you this afternoon, if you like, to 
my friend, the Cur£ of St. Ursula. Although we differ 
on religion we are good friends, and should you need 
advice on any matters he will give it to you, and may 
be of use in arranging for a passage for you to Eng¬ 
land, should your father not be able himself to come and 
fetch you.” 

Sir Aubrey at once assented to the plan when Cyril men¬ 
tioned it to him, and a week later sailed for England; Cyril 
moving, with his few belongings, to the house of Jean Bau- 
doin, who was the owner and master of one of the largest 
fishing-boats in Dunkirk. Sir Aubrey had paid for his board 
and lodgings for two months. 

“I expect to be over to fetch you long before that, Cyril,” 
he had said, “but it is as well to be on the safe side. Here 
are four crowns, which will furnish you with ample pocket- 
money. And I have arranged with your fencing-master for 
you to have lessons regularly, as before; it will not do for you 
to neglect so important an accomplishment, for which, as he 
tells me, you show great aptitude.” 

The two months passed. Cyril had received but one letter 
from his father. Although it expressed hopes of his speedy 
restoration to his estates, Cyril could see, by its tone, that his 
father was far from satisfied with the progress he had made in 


FATHERLESS 


17 


the matter. Madame Baudoin was a good and pious woman, 
and was very kind to the forlorn English boy; but when a fort¬ 
night over the two months had passed, Cyril could see that the 
fisherman was becoming anxious. Regularly, on his return 
from the fishing, he inquired if letters had arrived, and seemed 
much put out when he heard that there was no news. One 
day, when Cyril was in the garden that surrounded the cottage, 
he heard him say to his wife,— 

“Well, I will say nothing about it until after the next voy¬ 
age, and then if we don’t hear, the boy must do something 
for his living. I can take him in the boat with me; he can 
earn his victuals in that way. If he won’t do that, I shall 
wash my hands of him altogether, and he must shift for him¬ 
self. I believe his father has left him with us for good. We 
were wrong in taking him only on the recommendation of Mr. 
Felton. I have been inquiring about his father, and hear 
little good of him.” 

Cyril, as soon as the fisherman had gone, stole up to his 
little room. He was but twelve years old, and he threw him¬ 
self down on his bed and cried bitterly. Then a thought 
struck him; he went to his box, and took out from it a sealed 
parcel; on it was written, “To my son. This parcel is only 
to be opened should you find yourself in great need, Your 
Loving Mother.” He remembered how she had placed it in 
his hands a few hours before her death, and had said to 
him,— 

“ Put this away, Cyril. I charge you let no one see it. Do 
not speak of it to anyone — not even to your father. Keep 
it as a sacred gift, and do not open it unless you are in sore 
need. It is for you, and you alone. It is the sole thing that 
I have to leave you; use it with discretion. I fear that hard 
times will come upon you.” 

Cyril felt that his need could hardly be sorer than it was 
now, and without hesitation he broke the seals, and opened 
the packet. He found first a letter directed to himself. It 
began,— 

B 


18 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“My Darling Cyril, — I trust that it will be many years 
before you open this parcel and read these words. I have 
left the enclosed as a parting gift to you. I know not how 
long this exile may last, or whether you will ever be able to 
return to England. But whether you do or not, it may well 
be that the time will arrive when you may find yourself in 
sore need. Your father has been a loving husband to me, and 
will, I am sure, do what he can for you; but he is not provi¬ 
dent in his habits, and may not, after he is left alone, be as 
careful in his expenditure as I have tried to be. I fear then 
that the time will come when you will be in need of money, 
possibly even in want of the necessaries of life. All my other 
trinkets I have given to him; but the one enclosed, which 
belonged to my mother, I leave to you. It is worth a good 
deal of money, and this it is my desire that you shall spend 
upon yourself. Use it wisely, my son. If, when you open 
this, you are of age to enter the service of a foreign Prince, 
as is, I know, the intention of your father, it will provide you 
with a suitable outfit. If, as is possible, you may lose your 
father by death or otherwise while you are still young, spend 
it on your education, which is the best of all heritages. Should 
your father be alive when you open this, I pray you not to 
inform him of it. The money, in his hands, would last but 
a short time, and might, I fear, be wasted. Think not that 
I am speaking or thinking hardly of him. All men, even the 
best, have their faults, and his is a carelessness as to money 
matters, and a certain recklessness concerning them; there¬ 
fore, I pray you to keep it secret from him, though I do not 
say that you should not use the money for your common good, 
if it be needful; only, in that case, I beg you will not inform 
him as to what money you have in your possession, but use it 
carefully and prudently for the household wants, and make it 
last as long as may be. My good friend, Lady Parton, if still 
near you, will doubtless aid you in disposing of the jewels to 
the best advantage. God bless you, my son! This is the 
only secret I ever had from your father, but for your good I 


FATHERLESS 


19 


have hidden this one thing from him, and I pray that this 
deceit, which is practised for your advantage, may be for¬ 
given me. Your Loving Mother.” 

It was some time before Cyril opened the parcel; it con¬ 
tained a jewel-box in which was a necklace of pearls. After 
some consideration he took this to the Cur£ of St. Ursula, 
and, giving him his mother’s letter to read, asked him for his 
advice as to its disposal. 

“ Your mother was a thoughtful and pious woman,” the good 
priest said, after he had read the letter, “and has acted wisely 
in your behalf. The need she foresaw might come, has arisen, 
and you are surely justified in using her gift. I will dispose 
of this trinket for you; it is doubtless of considerable value. 
If it should be that your father speedily sends for you, you 
ought to lay aside the money for some future necessity. If 
he does not come for some time, as may well be — for, from 
the news that comes from England, it is like to be many 
months before affairs are settled — then draw from it only 
such amounts as are needed for your living and education. 
Study hard, my son, for so will you best be fulfilling the in¬ 
tentions of your mother. If you like, I will keep the money 
in my hands, serving it out to you as you need it; and in 
order that you may keep the matter a secret, I will myself go 
to Baudoin, and tell him that he need not be disquieted as to 
the cost of your maintenance, for that I have money in hand 
with which to discharge your expenses, so long as you may 
remain with him.” 

The next day the Cure informed Cyril that he had disposed 
of the necklace for fifty louis. Upon this sum Cyril lived for 
two years. 

Things had gone very hardly with Sir Aubrey Shenstone. 
The King had a difficult course to steer. To have evicted all 
those who had obtained possession of the forfeited estates of 
the Cavaliers would have been to excite a deep feeling of 
resentment among the Nonconformists. In vain Sir Aubrey 


20 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


pressed his claims, in season and out of season. He had no 
powerful friends to aid him; his conduct had alienated the 
men who could have assisted him, and, like so many other 
Cavaliers who had fought and suffered for Charles I., Sir 
Aubrey Shenstone found himself left altogether in the cold. 
For a time he was able to keep up a fair appearance, as he 
obtained loans from Prince Rupert and other Royalists whom 
he had known in the old days, and who had been more fortu¬ 
nate than himself; but the money so obtained lasted but a short 
time, and it was not long before he was again in dire straits. 

Cyril had from the first but little hope that his father 
would recover his estates. He had, shortly before his father 
left France, heard a conversation between Sir John Parton 
and a gentleman who was in the inner circle of Charles’s 
advisers. The latter had said,— 

“One of the King’s great difficulties will be to satisfy the 
exiles. Undoubtedly, could he consult his own inclinations 
only, he would on his return at once reinstate all those who 
have suffered in their estates from their loyalty to his father 
and himself. But this will be impossible. It was absolutely 
necessary for him, in his proclamation at Breda, to promise 
an amnesty for all offences, liberty of conscience and an obliv¬ 
ion as to the past, and he specially says that all questions of 
grants, sales and purchases of land, and titles, shall be re¬ 
ferred to Parliament. The Nonconformists are at present in 
a majority, and although it seems that all parties are willing 
to welcome the King back, you may be sure that no Parlia¬ 
ment will consent to anything like a general disturbance of 
the possessors of estates formerly owned by Royalists. In a 
vast number of cases, the persons to whom such grants were 
made disposed of them by sale to others, and it would be as 
hard on them to be ousted as it is upon the original proprie¬ 
tors to be kept out of their possession. Truly it is a most 
difficult position, and one that will have to be approached 
with great judgment, the more so since most of those to whom 
the lands were granted were generals, officers, and soldiers of 


FATHERLESS 


21 


the Parliament, and Monk would naturally oppose any steps 
to the detriment of his old comrades. 

“I fear there will be much bitter disappointment among 
the exiles, and that the King will be charged with ingratitude 
by those who think that he has only to sign an order for their 
reinstatement, whereas Charles will have himself a most diffi¬ 
cult course to steer, and will have to govern himself most 
circumspectly, so as to give offence to none of the governing 
parties. As to his granting estates, or dispossessing their 
holders, he will have no more power to do so than you or I. 
Doubtless some of the exiles will be restored to their estates; 
but I fear that the great bulk are doomed to disappointment. 
At any rate, for a time no extensive changes can be made, 
though it may be that in the distance, when the temper of 
the nation at large is better understood, the King will be able 
to do something for those who suffered in the cause. 

“ It was all very well for Cromwell, who leant solely on the 
Army, to dispense with a Parliament, and to govern far more 
autocratically than James or Charles even dreamt of doing; 
but the Army that supported Cromwell would certainly not 
support Charles. It is composed for the most part of stern 
fanatics, and will be the first to oppose any attempt of the 
King to override the law. No doubt it will erelong be dis¬ 
banded; but you will see that Parliament will then recover the 
authority of which Cromwell deprived it; and Charles is a far 
wiser man than his father, and will never set himself against 
the feeling of the country. Certainly, anything like a general 
reinstatement of the men who have been for the last ten years 
haunting the taverns of the Continent is out of the question; 
they would speedily create such a revulsion of public opinion 
as might bring about another rebellion. Hyde, staunch Roy¬ 
alist as he is, would never suffer the King to make so grievous 
an error; nor do I think for a moment that Charles, who is 
shrewd and politic, and above all things a lover of ease and quiet, 
would think of bringing such a nest of hornets about his ears.” 

When, after his return to England, it became evident that 


22 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


Sir Aubrey had but small chance of reinstatement in his lands, 
his former friends began to close their purses and to refuse 
to grant further loans, and he was presently reduced to straits 
as severe as those he had suffered during his exile. The good 
spirits that had borne him up so long failed now, and he grew 
morose and petulant. His loyalty to the King was un¬ 
shaken; Charles had several times granted him audiences, and 
had assured him that, did it rest with him, justice should be 
at once dealt to him, but that he was practically powerless in 
the matter, and the knight’s resentment was concentrated 
upon Hyde, now Lord Clarendon, and the rest of the King’s 
advisers. He wrote but seldom to Cyril; he had no wish to 
have the boy with him until he could take him down with 
him in triumph to Norfolk, and show him to the tenants as 
his heir. Living from hand to mouth as he did, he worried 
but little as to how Cyril was getting on. 

“The lad has fallen on his feet somehow,” he said, “and 
he is better where he is than he would be with me. I sup¬ 
pose when he wants money he will write and say so, though 
where I should get any to send to him I know not. Anyhow, 
I need not worry about him at present.” 

Cyril, indeed, had written to him soon after the sale of 
the necklace, telling him that he need not distress himself 
about his condition, for that he had obtained sufficient money 
for his present necessities from the sale of a small trinket his 
mother had given him before her death, and that when this 
was spent he should doubtless find some means of earning 
his living until he could rejoin him. His father never in¬ 
quired into the matter, though he made a casual reference to 
it in his next letter, saying that he was glad Cyril had obtained 
some money, as it would, at the moment, have been incon¬ 
venient to him to send any over. 

Cyril worked assiduously at the school that had been recom¬ 
mended to him by the Cur6, and at the end of two years he 
had still twenty louis left. He had several conversations with 
his adviser as to the best way of earning his living. 


FATHERLESS 


23 


“I do not wish to spend any more, Father,” he said, “and 
would fain keep this for some future necessity.” 

The Cur£ agreed with him as to this, and, learning from 
his master that he was extremely quick at figures and wrote an 
excellent hand, he obtained a place for him with one of the 
principal traders of the town. He was to receive no salary 
for a year, but was to learn book-keeping and accounts. 
Although but fourteen, the boy was so intelligent and zealous 
that his employer told the Cur6 that he found him of real 
service, and that he was able to entrust some of his books 
entirely to his charge. 

Six months after entering his service, however, Cyril re¬ 
ceived a letter from his father, saying that he believed his 
affairs were on the point of settlement, and therefore wished 
him to come over in the first ship sailing. He enclosed an 
order on a house at Dunkirk for fifty francs, to pay his pas¬ 
sage. His employer parted with him with regret, and the 
kind Cure bade him farewell in terms of real affection, for he 
had come to take a great interest in him. 

“At any rate, Cyril,” he said, “your time here has not been 
wasted, and your mother’s gift has been turned to as much 
advantage as even she can have hoped that it would be. 
Should your father’s hopes be again disappointed, and fresh 
delays arise, you may, with the practice you have had, be 
able to earn your living in London. There must be there, as 
in France, many persons in trade who have had but little 
education, and you may be able to obtain employment in 
keeping the books of such people, who are, I believe, more 
common in England than here. Here are the sixteen louis 
that still remain; put them aside, Cyril, and use them only 
for urgent necessity.” 

Cyril, on arriving in London, was heartily welcomed by his 
father, who had, for the moment, high hopes of recovering 
his estates. These, however, soon faded, and although Sir 
Aubrey would not allow it, even to himself, no chance re¬ 
mained of those Royalists, who had, like him, parted with 


24 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


their estates for trifling sums, to be spent in the King’s ser¬ 
vice, ever regaining possession of them. 

It was not long before Cyril perceived that unless he him¬ 
self obtained work of some sort they would soon be face to 
face with actual starvation. He said nothing to his father, 
but started out one morning on a round of visits among the 
smaller class of shopkeepers, offering to make up their books 
and write out their bills and accounts for a small remunera¬ 
tion. As he had a frank and pleasant face, and his foreign 
bringing up had given him an ease and politeness of manner 
rare among English lads of the day, it was not long before he 
obtained several clients. To some of the smaller class of 
traders he went only for an hour or two, once a week, while 
others required their bills and accounts to be made out daily. 
The pay was very small, but it sufficed to keep absolute want 
from the door. When he told his father of the arrangements 
he had made, Sir Aubrey at first raged and stormed; but he 
had come, during the last year or two, to recognise the good 
sense and strong will of his son, and although he never ver¬ 
bally acquiesced in what he considered a degradation, he 
offered no actual opposition to a plan that at least enabled 
them to live, and furnished him occasionally with a few 
groats with which he could visit a tavern. 

So things had gone on for more than a year. Cyril was 
now sixteen, and his punctuality, and the neatness of his work, 
had been so appreciated by the tradesmen who first employed 
him, that his time was now fully occupied, and that at rates 
more remunerative than those he had at first obtained. He 
kept the state of his resources to himself, and had no difficulty 
in doing this, as his father never alluded to the subject of his 
work. Cyril knew that, did he hand over to him all the 
money he made, it would be wasted in drink or at cards; con¬ 
sequently, he kept the table furnished as modestly as at first, 
and regularly placed after dinner on the corner of the mantel 
a few coins, which his father as regularly dropped into his 
pocket. 



don’t cry, lad; you will get on better without me. 



























FATHERLESS 


25 


A few days before the story opens, Sir Aubrey had, late one 
evening, been carried upstairs, mortally wounded in a brawl; 
he only recovered consciousness a few minutes before his 
death. 

“You have been a good lad, Cyril,” he said faintly, as 
he feebly pressed the boy’s hand; “far better than I deserve 
to have had. Don’t cry, lad; you will get on better without 
me, and things are just as well as they are. I hope you will 
come to your estates some day; you will make a better master 
than I should ever have done. I hope that in time you will 
carry out your plan of entering some foreign service; there 
is no chance here. I don’t want you to settle down as a city 
scrivener. Still, do as you like, lad, and unless your wishes 
go with mine, think no further of service.” 

“ I would rather be a soldier, father. I only undertook 
this work because I could see nothing else.” 

“That is right, my boy, that is right. I know you won’t 
forget that you come of a race of gentlemen.” 

He spoke but little after that. A few broken words came 
from his lips that showed that his thoughts had gone back to 
old times. “Boot and saddle,” he murmured. “That is 
right. Now we are ready for them. Down with the prick- 
eared knaves! God and King Charles! ” These were the 
last words he spoke. 

Cyril had done all that was necessary. He had laid by 
more than half his earnings for the last eight or nine months. 
One of his clients, an undertaker, had made all the necessary 
preparations for the funeral, and in a few hours his father 
would be borne to his last resting-place. As he stood at the 
open window he thought sadly over the past, and of his 
father’s wasted life. Had it not been for the war he might 
have lived and died a country gentleman. It was the war, 
with its wild excitements, that had ruined him. What was 
there for him to do in a foreign country, without resource or 
employment, having no love for reading, but to waste his life 
as he had done? Had his wife lived it might- have been 


26 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


different. Cyril had still a vivid remembrance of his mother, 
and though his father had but seldom spoken to him of her, 
he knew that he had loved her, and that, had she lived, he 
would never have given way to drink as he had done of late 
years. 

To his father’s faults he could not be blind; but they stood 
for nothing now. He had been his only friend, and of late 
they had been drawn closer to each other in their loneliness; 
and although scarce a word of endearment had passed between 
them, he knew that his father had cared for him more than 
was apparent in his manner. 

A few hours later, Sir Aubrey Shenstone was laid to rest in 
a little graveyard outside the city walls. Cyril was the only 
mourner; and when it was over, instead of going back to his 
lonely room, he turned away and wandered far out through the 
fields towards Hampstead, and then sat himself down to think 
what he had best do. Another three or four years must pass 
before he could try to get service abroad. When the time 
came he should find Sir John Parton, and beg him to procure 
for him some letter of introduction to the many British gen¬ 
tlemen serving abroad. He had not seen him since he came 
to England. His father had met him, but had quarrelled 
with him upon Sir John declining to interest himself actively 
to push his claims, and had forbidden Cyril to go near those 
who had been so kind to him. 

The boy had felt it greatly at first, but he came, after a 
time, to see that it was best so. It seemed to him that he 
had fallen altogether out of their station in life when the hope 
of his father’s recovering his estates vanished, and although 
he was sure of a kindly reception from Lady Parton, he shrank 
from going there in his present position. They had done so 
much for him already, that the thought that his visit might 
seem to them a sort of petition for further benefits was intol¬ 
erable to him. 

For the present, the question in his mind was whether he 
should continue at his present work, which at any rate sufficed 


FATHERLESS 


27 


to keep him, or should seek other employment. He would 
greatly have preferred some life of action,— something that 
would fit him better to bear the fatigues and hardships of war, 
— but he saw no prospect of obtaining any such position. 

“I should be a fool to throw up what I have,” he said to 
himself at last. “ I will stick to it anyhow until some oppor¬ 
tunity offers; but the sooner I leave it the better. It was bad 
enough before; it will be worse now. If I had but a friend 
or two it would not be so hard; but to have no one to speak 
to, and no one to think about, when work is done, will be 
lonely indeed.” 

At any rate, he determined to change his room as soon as 
possible. It mattered little where he went so that it was a 
change. He thought over various tradesmen for whom he 
worked. Some of them might have an attic, he cared not 
how small, that they might let him have in lieu of paying him 
for his work. Even if they never spoke to him, it would be 
better to be in a house where he knew something of those 
downstairs, than to lodge in one where he was an utter stranger 
to all. He had gone round to the shops where he worked, on 
the day after his father’s death, to explain that he could not 
come again until after the funeral, and he resolved that next 
morning he would ask each in turn whether he could obtain a 
lodging with them. 

The sun was already setting when he rose from the bank on 
which he had seated himself, and returned to the city. The 
room did not feel so lonely to him as it would have done had 
he not been accustomed to spending the evenings alone. He 
took out his little hoard and counted it. After paying the 
expenses of the funeral there would still remain sufficient to 
keep him for three or four months should he fall ill, or, from 
any cause, lose his work. He had one good suit of clothes 
that had been bought on his return to England,— when his 
father thought that they would assuredly be going down almost 
immediately to take possession of the old Hall,— and the rest 
were all in fair condition. 


28 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


The next day he began his work again; he had two visits to 
pay of an hour each, and one of two hours, and the spare time 
between these he filled up by calling at two or three other 
shops to make up for the arrears of work during the last few 
days. 

The last place he had to visit was that at which he had the 
longest task to perform. It was at a ship-chandler’s in Tower 
Street, a large and dingy house, the lower portion being filled 
with canvas, cordage, barrels of pitch and tar, candles, oil, 
and matters of all sorts needed by ship-masters, including 
many cannon of different sizes, piles of balls, anchors, and 
other heavy work, all of which were stowed away in a yard 
behind it. The owner of this store was a one-armed man. 
His father had kept it before him, but he himself, after work¬ 
ing there long enough to become a citizen and a member of 
the Ironmongers’ Guild, had quarrelled with his father and 
had taken to the sea. For twenty years he had voyaged to 
many lands, principally in ships trading in the Levant, and 
had passed through a great many adventures, including several 
fights with the Moorish corsairs. In the last voyage he took, 
he had had his arm shot off by a ball from a Greek pirate 
among the Islands. He had long before made up his differ¬ 
ences with his father, but had resisted the latter’s entreaties 
that he should give up the sea and settle down at the shop; 
on his return after this unfortunate voyage he told him that 
he had come home to stay. 

“I shall be able to help about the stores after a while,” he 
said, “but I shall never be the man I was on board ship. It 
will be hard work to take to measuring out canvas and to 
weighing iron, after a free life on the sea, but I don’t so much 
mind now I have had my share of adventures; though I dare 
say I should have gone on for a few more years if that rascally 
ball had not carried away my arm. I don’t know but that it 
is best as it is, for the older I got the harder I should find it 
to fall into new ways and to settle down here.” 

“Anyhow, I am glad you are back, David,” his father said. 





FATHERLESS 


29 


“You are forty-five, and though I don’t say it would not have 
been better if you had remained here from the first, you have 
learnt many things you would not have learnt here. You 
know just the sort of things that masters of ships require, and 
what canvas and cables and cordage will suit their wants. 
Besides, customers like to talk with men of their own way of 
thinking, and sailors more, I think, than other men. You 
know, too, most of the captains who sail up the Mediterranean, 
and may be able to bring fresh custom into the shop. There¬ 
fore, do not think that you will be of no use to me. As to 
your wife and child, there is plenty of room for them as well 
as for you, and it will be better for them here, with you always 
at hand, than it would be for them to remain over at Rother- 
hithe and only to see you after the shutters are up.” 

Eight years later Captain Dave, as he was always called, 
became sole owner of the house and business. A year after 
he did so he was lamenting to a friend the trouble that he had 
with his accounts. 

“ My father always kept that part of the business in his own 
hands,” he said, “and I find it a mighty heavy burden. Be¬ 
yond checking a bill of lading, or reading the marks on the 
bales and boxes, I never had occasion to read or write for 
twenty years, and there has not been much more of it for the 
last fifteen; and although I was a smart scholar enough in my 
young days, my fingers are stiff with hauling at ropes and 
using the marling-spike, and my eyes are not so clear as they 
used to be, and it is no slight toil and labour to me to make 
up an account for goods sold. John Wilkes, my head shop¬ 
man, is a handy fellow; he was my boatswain in the Kate , 
and I took him on when we found that the man who had been 
my father’s right hand for twenty years had been cheating him 
all along. We got on well enough as long as I could give all 
my time in the shop; but he is no good with the pen — all 
he can do is to enter receipts and sales. 

“ He has a man under him, who helps him in measuring out 
the right length of canvas and cables or for weighing a chain 



30 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


or an anchor, and knows enough to put down the figures; but 
that is all. Then there are the two smiths and the two appren¬ 
tices; they don’t count in the matter. Robert Ashford, the 
eldest apprentice, could do the work, but I have no fancy for 
him; he does not look one straight in the face as one who is 
honest and above board should do. I shall have to keep a 
clerk, and I know what it will be — he will be setting me 
right, and I shall not feel my own master; he will be out of 
place in my crew altogether. I never liked pursers; most of 
them are rogues. Still, I suppose it must come to that.” 

“ I have a boy come in to write my bills and to make up 
my accounts, who would be just the lad for you, Captain 
Dave. He is the son of a broken-down Cavalier, but he is a 
steady, honest young fellow, and I fancy his pen keeps his 
father, who is a roystering blade, and spends most of his time 
at the taverns. The boy comes to me for an hour, twite a 
week; he writes as good a hand as any clerk and can reckon 
as quickly, and I pay him but a groat a week, which was all 
he asked.” 

“ Tell him to come to me, then. I should want him every day, 
if he could manage it, and it would be the very thing for me.” 

“I am sure you would like him,” the other said; “he is a 
good-looking young fellow, and his face speaks for him with¬ 
out any recommendation. I was afraid at first that he would 
not do for me; I thought there was too much of the gentleman 
about him. He has good manners, and a gentle sort of way. 
He has been living in France all his life, and though he has 
never said anything about his family — indeed he talks but 
little, he just comes in and does his work and goes away — I 
fancy his father was one of King Charles’s men and of good 
blood.” 

“Well, that doesn’t sound so well,” the sailor said, “but 
anyhow I should like to have a look at him.” 

“ He comes to me to-morrow at eleven and goes at twelve,” 
the man said, “and I will send him round to you when he 
has done.” 


FATHERLESS 


31 


Cyril had gone round the next morning to the ships’ store. 

“ So you are the lad that works for my neighbour Ander¬ 
son?” Captain Dave said, as he surveyed him closely. “I 
like your looks, lad, but I doubt whether we shall get on to¬ 
gether. I am an old sailor, you know, and I am quick of 
speech and don’t stop to choose my words, so if you are quick 
to take offence it would be of no use your coming to me.” 

“I don’t think I am likely to take offence,” Cyril said 
quietly; “and if we don’t get on well together, sir, you will 
only have to tell me that you don’t want me any longer; but 
I trust you will not have often the occasion to use hard words, 
for at any rate I will do my best to please you.” 

“You can’t say more, lad. Well, let us have a taste of 
your quality. Come in here,” and he led him into a little 
room partitioned off from the shop. “There, you see,” and 
he opened a book, “is the account of the sales and orders 
yesterday; the ready-money sales have got to be entered in 
that ledger with the red cover; the sales where no money 
passed have to be entered to the various customers or ships 
in the ledger. I have made out a list— here it is — of twelve 
accounts that have to be drawn out from that ledger and sent 
in to customers. You will find some of them are of somewhat 
long standing, for I have been putting off that job. Sit you 
down here. When you have done one or two of them I will 
have a look at your work, and if that is satisfactory we will 
have a talk as to what hours you have got disengaged, and 
what days in the week will suit you best.” 

It was two hours before Captain Dave came in again. Cyril 
had just finished the work; some of the accounts were long 
ones, and the writing was so crabbed that it took him some 
time to decipher it. 

“Well, how are you getting on, lad?” the Captain asked. 

“I have this moment finished the last account.” 

“ What! Do you mean to say that you have done them all! 
Why, it would have taken me all my evenings for a week. 
Now, hand me the books; it is best to do things ship-shape.” 


32 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


He first compared the list of the sales with the entries, and 
then Cyril handed him the twelve accounts he had drawn up. 
Captain David did not speak until he had finished looking 
through them. 

“ I would not have believed all that work could have been 
done in two hours,” he said, getting up from his chair. “Or¬ 
derly and well written, and without a blot. The King’s sec¬ 
retary could not have done better! Well, now you have seen 
the list of sales for a day, and I take it that be about the 
average, so if you come three times a week you will always 
have two days’ sales to enter in the ledger. There are a lot 
of other books my father used to keep, but I have never had 
time to bother myself about them, and as I have got on very 
well so far, I do not see any occasion for you to do so, for 
my part it seems to me that all these books are only invented 
by clerks to give themselves something to do to fill up their 
time. Of course, there won’t be accounts to send out every 
day. Do you think with two hours, three times a week, you 
could keep things straight? ” 

“ I should certainly think so, sir, but I can hardly say until 
I try, because it seems to me that there must be a great many 
items, and I can’t say how long it will take entering all the 
goods received under their proper headings; but if the books 
are thoroughly made up now, I should think I could keep 
them all going.” 

“That they are not,” Captain David said ruefully; “they 
are all horribly in arrears. I took charge of them myself three 
years ago, and though I spend three hours every evening worry¬ 
ing over them, they get further and further in arrears. Look 
at those files over there,” and he pointed to three long wires, 
on each of which was strung a large bundle of papers; “ I am 
afraid you will have to enter them all up before you can get 
matters into ship-shape order. The daily sale book is the 
only one that has been kept up regularly.” 

“ But these accounts I have made up, sir ? Probably in those 
files there are many other goods supplied to the same people.” 


FATHERLESS 


33 


“ Of course there are, lad, though I did not think of it be¬ 
fore. Well, we must wait, then, until you can make up the 
arrears a bit, though I really want to get some money in.” 

“Well, sir, I might write at the bottom of each bill ‘Ac¬ 
count made up to, ’ and then put in the date of the latest entry 
charged.” 

“That would do capitally, lad — I did not think of that. I 
see you will be of great use to me. I can buy and sell, for I 
know the value of the goods I deal in; but as to accounts, 
they are altogether out of my way. And now, lad, what do 
you charge? ” 

“I charge a groat for two hours’ work, sir; but if I came to 
you three times a week, I would do it for a little less.” 

“No, lad, I don’t want to beat you down; indeed, I don’t 
think you charge enough. However, let us say, to begin 
with, three groats a week.” 

This had been six weeks before Sir Aubrey Shenstone’s 
death; and in the interval Cyril had gradually wiped off all 
the arrears, and had all the books in order up to date, to the 
astonishment of his employer. 


c 




CHAPTER II 

A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 

“ T AM glad to see you again, lad,” Captain David said, 
1 when Cyril entered his shop. “ I have been thinking of 
the news you gave me last week, and the mistress and I have 
been talking it over. Where are you lodging?” 

“I have been lodging until now in Holborn,” Cyril replied; 
“but I am going to move.” 

“Yes; that is what we thought you would be doing. It is 
always better to make a change after a loss. I don’t want to 
interfere in your business, lad, but have you any friends you 
are thinking of going to? ” 

“No, sir; I do not know a soul in London save those I 
work for.” 

“That is bad, lad — very bad. I was talking it over with 
my wife, and I said that maybe you were lonely. I am sure, 
lad, you are one of the right sort. I don’t mean only in your 
work, for as for that I would back you against any scrivener 
in London, but I mean about yourself. It don’t need half 
an eye to see that you have not been brought up to this sort 
of thing, though you have taken to it so kindly, but there is 
not one in a thousand boys of your age who would have set¬ 
tled down to work and made their way without a friend to 
help them as you have done; it shows that there is right good 
stuff in you. There, I am so long getting under weigh that I 
shall never get into port if I don’t steer a straight course. 
Now, my ideas and my wife’s come to this: if you have got 

34 






A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 


35 


no friends you will have to take a lodging somewhere among 
strangers, and then it would be one of two things — you would 
either stop at home and mope by yourself, or you would go 
out, and maybe get into bad company. If I had not come 
across you I should have had to employ a clerk, and he would 
either have lived here with us or I should have had to pay 
him enough to keep house for himself. Now in fact you are 
a clerk; for though you are only here for six hours a week — 
you do all the work there is to do, and no clerk could do 
more. Well, we have got an attic upstairs which is not used, 
and if you like to come here and live with us, my wife and I 
will make you heartily welcome.” 

“Thank you, indeed,” Cyril said warmly. “It is of all 
things what I should like; but of course I should wish to pay 
you for my board. I can afford to do so if you will employ 
me for the same hours as at present.” 

“No, I would not have that, lad; but if you like we can 
reckon your board against what I now pay you. We feed 
John Wilkes and the two apprentices, and one mouth extra 
will make but little difference. I don’t want it to be a matter 
of obligation, so we will put your board against the work you 
do for me. I shall consider that we are making a good bar¬ 
gain.” 

“It is your pleasure to say so, sir, but I cannot tell you 
what a load your kind offer takes off my mind. The future 
has seemed very dark to me.” 

“Very well. That matter is settled, then. Come upstairs 
with me and I will present you to my wife and daughter; they 
have heard me speak of you so often that they will be glad to 
see you. In the first place, though, I must ask you your name. 
Since you first signed articles and entered the crew I have 
never thought of asking you.” 

“My name is Cyril, sir — Cyril Shenstone.” 

His employer nodded and at once led the way upstairs. A 
motherly looking woman rose from the seat where she was 
sitting at work, as they entered the living-room. 


36 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“This is my Prince of Scriveners, Mary, the lad I have 
often spoken to you about. His name is Cyril; he has 
accepted the proposal we talked over last night, and is going 
to become one of the crew on board our ship.” 

“I am glad to see you,” she said to Cyril, holding out her 
hand to him. “ I have not met you before, but I feel very 
grateful to you. Till you came, my husband was bothered 
nearly out of his wits; he used to sit here worrying over his 
books, and writing from the time the shop closed till the hour 
for bed, and Nellie and I dared not to say as much as a word. 
Now we see no more of his books, and he is able to go out for 
a walk in the fields with us as he used to do before.” 

“It is very kind of you to say so, Mistress,” Cyril said 
earnestly; “but it is I, on the contrary, who am deeply grate¬ 
ful to you for the offer Captain Dave has been good enough 
to make me. You cannot tell the pleasure it has given me, 
for you cannot understand how lonely and friendless I have 
been feeling. Believe me, I will strive to give you as little 
trouble as possible, and to conform myself in all ways to your 
wishes.” 

At this moment Nellie Dowsett came into the room. She 
was a pretty girl some eighteen years of age. 

“This is Cyril, your father’s assistant, Nellie,” her mother 
said. 

“You are welcome, Master Cyril. I have been wanting to 
see you. Father has been praising you up to the skies so 
often that I have had quite a curiosity to see what you could 
be like.” 

“Your father is altogether too good, Mistress Nellie, and 
makes far more of my poor ability than it deserves.” 

“And is he going to live with us, mother? ” Nellie asked. 

“Yes, child; he has accepted your father’s offer.” 

Nellie clapped her hands. 

“That is good,” she said. “I shall expect you to escort 
me out sometimes, Cyril. Father always wants me to go down 
to the wharf to look at the ships or to go into the fields; but 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 


37 


I want to go sometimes to see the fashions, and there is no 
one to take me, for John Wilkes always goes oh to smoke a 
pipe with some sailor or other, and the apprentices are stupid 
and have nothing to say for themselves; and besides, one 
can’t walk alongside a boy in an apprentice cap.” 

“ I shall be very happy to, Mistress, when my work is done, 
though I fear that I shall make but a poor escort, for indeed 
I have had no practice whatever in the esquiring of dames.” 

“I am sure you will do very well,” Nellie said, nodding 
approvingly. “Is it true that you have been in France? 
Father said he was told so.” 

“Yes; I have lived almost all my life in France.” 

“And do you speak French?” 

“Yes; I speak it as well as English.” 

“ It must have been very hard to learn? ” 

“ Not at all. It came to me naturally, just as English did.” 

“You must not keep him any longer now, Nellie; he has 
other appointments to keep, and when he has done that, to go 
and pack up his things and see that they are brought here by 
a porter. He can answer some more of your questions when 
he comes here this evening.” 

Cyril returned to Holborn with a lighter heart than he had 
felt for a long time. His preparations for the move took him 
but a short time, and two hours later he was installed in a 
little attic in the ship-chandler’s house. He spent half-an- 
hour in unpacking his things, and then heard a stentorian 
shout from below,— 

“Masthead, ahoy! Supper’s waiting.” 

Supposing that this hail was intended for himself, he at 
once went downstairs. The table was laid. Mistress Dow- 
sett took her seat at the head; her husband sat on one side of 
her, and Nellie on the other. John Wilkes sat next to his 
master, and beyond him the elder of the two apprentices. A 
seat was left between Nellie and the other apprentice for Cyril. 

“Now our crew is complete, John,” Captain Dave said. 
“We have been wanting a supercargo badly.” 


38 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“ Ay, ay, Captain Dave, there is no doubt we have been short- 
handed in that respect; but things have been more ship-shape 
lately.” 

“That is so, John. I can make a shift to keep the vessel on 
her course, but when it comes to writing up the log, and 
keeping the reckoning, I make but a poor hand at it. It 
was getting to be as bad as that voyage of the Jane in the 
Levant, when the supercargo had got himself stabbed at 
Lemnos.” 

“ I mind it, Captain — I mind it well. And what a trouble 
there was with the owners when we got back again! ” 

“Yes, yes,” the Captain said; “it was worse work than 
having a brush with a Barbary corsair. I shall never forget 
that day. When I went to the office to report, the three 
owners were all in. 

“‘Well, Captain Dave, back from your voyage?’ said the 
littlest of the three. ‘Made a good voyage, I hope? ’ 

“First-rate, says I, except that the supercargo got killed 
at Lemnos by one of them rascally Greeks. 

“‘ Dear, dear,’ said another of them — he was a prim, sanc¬ 
timonious sort — ‘Has our brother Jenkins left us? ’ 

“I don’t know about his leaving us, says I, but we left 
him sure enough in a burying-place there. 

And how did you manage without him? ’ 

“ I made as good a shift as I could, I said. I have sold 
all the cargo, and I have brought back a freight of six tons of 
Turkey figs, and four hundred boxes of currants. And these 
two bags hold the difference. 

“‘ Have you brought the books with you, Captain? ’ 

“Never a book, said I. I have had to navigate the ship 
and to look after the crew, and do the best I could at each 
port. The books are on board, made out up to the day before 
the supercargo was killed, three months ago; but I have never 
had time to make an entry since. 

“They looked at each other like owls for a minute or two, 
and then they all began to talk at once. How had I sold the 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 


39 


goods? had I charged the prices mentioned in the invoice? 
what percentage had I put on for profit? and a lot of other 
things. I waited until they were all out of breath, and then 
I said I had not bothered about invoices. I knew pretty well 
the prices such things cost in England. I clapped on so much 
more for the expenses of the voyage and a fair profit. I could 
tell them what I had paid for the figs and the currants, and for 
some bags of Smyrna sponges I had bought, but as to the 
prices I had charged, it was too much to expect that I could 
carry them in my head. All I knew was I had paid for the 
things I had bought, I had paid all the port dues and other 
charges, I had advanced the men one-fourth of their wages 
each month, and I had brought them back the balance. 

“ Such a hubbub you never heard. One would have thought 
they would have gone raving mad. The sanctimonious part¬ 
ner was the worst of the lot. He threatened me with the 
Lord Mayor and the Aldermen, and went on till I thought he 
would have had a fit. 

“Look here, says I, at last, I’ll tell you what I will do. 
You tell me what the cargo cost you altogether, and put on so 
much for the hire of the ship. I will pay you for them and 
settle up with the crew, and take the cargo and sell it. That 
is a fair offer. And I advise you to keep civil tongues in 
your heads, or I will knock them off and take my chance 
before the Lord Mayor for assault and battery. 

“With that I took off my coat and laid it on a bench. 
I reckon they saw that I was in earnest, and they just sat 
as mum as mice. Then the little man said, in a quieter sort 
of voice, — 

“ ‘ You are too hasty, Captain Dowsett. We know you to 
be an honest man and a good sailor, and had no suspicion 
that you would wrong us; but no merchant in the City of 
London could hear that his business had been conducted in 
such a way as you have carried it through without for a time 
losing countenance. Let us talk the matter over reasonably 
and quietly. ’ 


40 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“That is just what I am wanting, I said; and if there 
hasn’t been reason and quiet it is from no fault of mine. 

“‘ Well, please to put your coat on again, Captain, and let 
us see how matters stand! ’ 

“Then they took their ink-horns and pens, and, on finding 
out what I had paid for the figs and other matters, they reck¬ 
oned them up; then they put down what I said was due to 
the sailors and the mate and myself; then they got out some 
books, and for an hour they were busy reckoning up figures; 
then they opened the bags and counted up the gold we had 
brought home. Well, when they had done, you would hardly 
have known them for the same men. First of all, they went 
through all their calculations again to be sure they had made 
no mistake about them; then they laid down their pens, and 
the sanctimonious man mopped the perspiration from his face, 
and the others smiled at each other. Then the biggest of the 
three, who had scarcely spoken before, said, — 

“ 1 Well, Captain Dowsett, I must own that my partners were 
a little hasty. The result of our calculations is that the voy¬ 
age has been a satisfactory one, I may almost say very satis¬ 
factory, and that you must have disposed of the goods to much 
advantage. It has been a new and somewhat extraordinary 
way of doing business, but I am bound to say that the result 
has exceeded our expectations, and we trust that you will 
command the Jane for many more voyages. ’ 

“Not for me, says I. You can hand me over the wages 
due to me, and you will find the Jane moored in the stream 
just above the Tower. You will find her in order and ship¬ 
shape; but never again do I set my foot on board her or on any 
other vessel belonging to men who have doubted my honesty. 

“ Nor did I. I had a pretty good name among traders, and 
ten days later I started for the Levant again in command of a 
far smarter vessel than the Jane had ever been.” 

“And we all went with you, Captain,” John Wilkes said, 
“every man jack of us. And on her very next voyage the 
Jane was captured by the Algerines, and I reckon there are 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 


41 


some of the poor fellows working as slaves there now; for 
though Blake did blow the place pretty nigh out of water a 
few years afterwards, it is certain that the Christian slaves 
handed over to him were not half those the Moors had in 
their hands.” 

“ It would seem, Captain Dowsett, from your story, that you 
can manage very well without a supercargo?” Cyril said 
quietly. 

“Ay, lad; but you see that was a ready-money business. 
I handed over the goods and took the cash; there was no 
accounts to be kept. It was all clear and above board. But 
it is a different thing in this ship altogether, when, instead of 
paying down on the nail for what they get, you have got to 
keep an account of everything and send in all their items jot¬ 
ted down in order. Why, Nellie, your tongue seems quieter 
than usual.” 

“ You have not given me a chance, father. You have been 
talking ever since we sat down to table.” 

Supper was now over. The two apprentices at once 
retired. Cyril would have done the same, but Mistress 
Dowsett said, — 

“ Sit you still, Cyril. The Captain says that you are to be 
considered as one of the officers of the ship, and we shall be 
always glad to have you here, though of course you can always 
go up to your own room, or go out, when you feel inclined.” 

“I have to go out three times a week to work,” Cyril said; 
“but all the other evenings I shall be glad indeed to sit here, 
Mistress Dowsett. You cannot tell what a pleasure it is to 
me to be in an English home like this.” 

It was not long before John Wilkes went out. 

“He is off to smoke his pipe,” the Captain said. “I never 
light mine till he goes. I can’t persuade him to take his 
with me; he insists it would not be manners to smoke in the 
cabin.” 

“He is quite right, father,” Nellie said. “It is bad 
enough having you smoke here. When mother’s friends or 


42 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


mine come in they are well-nigh choked; they are not accus¬ 
tomed to it as we are, for a respectable London citizen does 
not think of taking tobacco.” 

“I am a London citizen, Nellie, but I don’t set up any 
special claim to respectability. I am a sea-captain, though 
that rascally Greek cannon-ball and other circumstances have 
made a trader of me, sorely against my will; and if I could 
not have my pipe and my glass of grog here I would go and 
sit with John Wilkes in the tavern at the corner of the street, 
and I suppose that would not be even as respectable as smok¬ 
ing here.” 

“Nellie doesn’t mean, David, that she wants you to give up 
smoking; only she thinks that John is quite right to go out 
to take his pipe. And I must say I think so too. You 
know that when you have sea-captains of your acquaintance 
here, you always send the maid off to bed and smoke in the 
kitchen.” 

“Ay, ay, my dear, I don’t want to turn your room into a 
fo’castle. There is reason in all things. I suppose you don’t 
smoke, Master Cyril?” 

“No, Captain Dave, I have never so much as thought of 
such a thing. In France it is the fashion to take snuff, but 
the habit seemed to me a useless one, and I don’t think that 
I should ever have taken to it.” 

“I wonder,” Captain Dave said, after they had talked for 
some time, “ that after living in sight of the sea for so long 
your thoughts never turned that way.” 

“I cannot say that I have never thought of it,” Cyril said. 
“ I have thought that I should greatly like to take foreign voy¬ 
ages, but I should not have cared to go as a ship’s boy, and to 
live with men so ignorant that they could not even write their 
own names. My thoughts have turned rather to the Army; 
and when I get older I think of entering some foreign service, 
either that of Sweden or of one of the Protestant German 
princes. I could obtain introductions through which I might 
enter as a cadet, or gentleman volunteer. I have learnt Ger- 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 


43 


man, and though I cannot speak it as I can French or English, 

I know enough to make my way in it.” 

“Can you use your sword, Cyril?” Nellie Dowsett asked. 

“I have had very good teaching,” Cyril replied, “and hope 
to be able to hold my own.” 

“Then you are not satisfied with this mode of life?” 
Mistress Dowsett said. 

“ I am satisfied with it, Mistress, inasmuch as I can earn 
money sufficient to keep me. But rather than settle down for 
life as a city scrivener, I would go down to the river and ship 
on board the first vessel that would take me, no matter where 
she sailed for.” 

“I think you are wrong,” Mistress Dowsett said gravely. 
“ My husband tells me how clever you are at figures, and you 
might some day get a good post in the house of one of our 
great merchants.” 

“Maybe it would be so,” Cyril said; “but such a life would 
ill suit me. I have truly a great desire to earn money; but it 
must be in some way to suit my taste.” 

“And why do you want to earn a great deal of money, 
Cyril?” Nellie laughed, while her mother shook her head 
disapprovingly. 

“I wish to have enough to buy my father’s estate back 
again,” he said, “and though I know well enough that it is 
not likely I shall ever do it, I shall fight none the worse that 
I have such a hope in my mind.” 

“ Bravo, lad! ” Captain Dave said. “ I knew not that there 
was an estate in the case, though I did hear that you were the 
son of a Royalist. It is a worthy ambition, boy, though if it 
is a large one ’tis scarce like that you will get enough to buy 
it back again.” 

“ It is not a very large one,” Cyril said. “ ’Tis down in Nor¬ 
folk, but it was a grand old house — at least, so I have heard 
my father say, though I have but little remembrance of it, as I 
was but three years old when I left it. My father, who was 
Sir Aubrey Shenstone, had hoped to recover it; but he was 


14 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


one of the many who sold their estates for far less than their 
value in order to raise money in the King’s service, and, as 
you are aware, none of those who did so have been reinstated, 
but only those who, having had their land taken from them 
by Parliament, recovered them because their owners had no 
title-deeds to show, save the grant of Parliament that was 
of no effect in the Courts. Thus the most loyal men — those 
who sold their estates to aid the King — have lost all, while 
those that did not so dispossess themselves in his service are 
now replaced on their land.” 

“It seems very unfair,” Nellie said indignantly. 

“It is unfair to them, assuredly, Mistress Nellie. And yet 
it would be unfair to the men who bought, though often they 
gave but a tenth of their value, to be turned out again unless 
they received their money back. It is not easy to see where 
that money could come from, for assuredly the King’s privy 
purse would not suffice to pay all the money, and equally cer¬ 
tain is it that Parliament would not vote a great sum for that 
purpose.” 

“It is a hard case, lad — a hard case,” Captain Dave said, 
as he puffed the smoke from his pipe. “Now I know how 
you stand, I blame you in no way that you long more for a 
life of adventure than to settle down as a city scrivener. I 
don’t think even my wife, much as she thinks of the city, 
could say otherwise.” 

“It alters the case much,” Mistress Dowsett said. “I did 
not know that Cyril was the son of a Knight, though it was 
easy enough to see that his manners accord not with his pres¬ 
ent position. Still there are fortunes made in the city, and 
no honest work is dishonouring even to a gentleman’s son.” 

“Not at all, Mistress,” Cyril said warmly. “ ’Tis assuredly 
not on that account that I would fain seek more stirring em¬ 
ployment; but it was always my father’s wish and intention 
that, should there be no chance of his ever regaining the 
estate, I should enter foreign service, and I have always 
looked forward to that career.” 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 


45 


“Well, I will wager that you will do credit to it, lad,” 
Captain Dave said. “You have proved that you are ready to 
turn your hand to any work that may come to you. You have 
shown a manly spirit, my boy, and I honour you for it; and 
by St. Anthony I believe that some day, unless a musket-ball 
or a pike-thrust brings you up with a round turn, you will live 
to get your own back again.” 

Cyril remained talking for another two hours, and then be¬ 
took himself to bed. After he had gone, Mistress Dowsett 
said, after a pause, — 

“Do you not think, David, that, seeing that Cyril is the 
son of a Knight, it would be more becoming to give him the 
room downstairs instead of the attic where he is now lodged? ” 

The old sailor laughed. 

“That is woman-kind all over,” he said. “It was good 
enough for him before, and now forsooth, because the lad 
mentioned, and assuredly in no boasting way, that his father 
had been a Knight, he is to be treated differently. He would 
not thank you himself for making the change, dame. In the 
first place, it would make him uncomfortable, and he might 
make an excuse to leave us altogether; and in the second, you 
may be sure that he has been used to no better quarters than 
those he has got. The Royalists in France were put to sore 
shifts to live, and I fancy that he has fared no better since he 
came home. His father would never have consented to his 
going out to earn money by keeping the accounts of little city 
traders like myself had it not been that he was driven to it by 
want. No, no, wife; let the boy go on as he is, and make no 
difference in any way. I liked him before, and I like him all 
the better now, for putting his gentlemanship in his pocket 
and setting manfully to work instead of hanging on the skirts 
of some Royalist who has fared better than his father did. 
He is grateful as it is — that is easy to see — for our taking 
him in here. We did that partly because he proved a good 
worker and has taken a lot of care off my shoulders, partly 
because he was fatherless and alone. I would not have him 


46 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


think that we are ready to do more because he is a Knight’s 
son. Let the boy be, and suffer him to steer his ship his own 
course. If, when the time comes, we can further his objects 
in any way we will do it with right good will. What do you 
think of him, Nellie?” he asked, changing the subject. 

“ He is a proper young fellow, father, and I shall be well 
content to go abroad escorted by him instead of having your 
apprentice, Robert Ashford, in attendance on me. He has not 
a word to say for himself, and truly I like him not in anyway.” 

“He is not a bad apprentice, Nellie, and John Wilkes has 
but seldom cause to find fault with him, though I own that I 
have no great liking myself for him; he never seems to look 
one well in the face, which, I take it, is always a bad sign. 
I know no harm of him; but when his apprenticeship is out, 
which it will be in another year, I shall let him go his own 
way, for I should not care to have him on the premises.” 

“Methinks you are very unjust, David. The lad is quiet 
and regular in his ways; he goes twice every Sunday to the 
Church of St. Alphage, and always tells me the texts of the 
sermons.” 

The Captain grunted. 

“Maybe so, wife; but it is easy to get hold of the text of a 
sermon without having heard it. I have my doubts whether 
he goes as regularly to St. Alphage’s as he says he does. Why 
could he not go with us to St. Bennet’s?” 

“He says he likes the administrations of Mr. Catlin better, 
David. And, in truth, our parson is not one of the stirring 
kind.” 

“So much the better,” Captain Dave said bluntly. “I like 
not these men that thump the pulpit and make as if they were 
about to jump out head foremost. However, I don’t suppose 
there is much harm in the lad, and it may be that his failure 
to look one in the face is not so much his fault as that of 
nature, which endowed him with a villainous squint. Well, 
let us turn in; it is past nine o’clock, and high time to be 
a-bed.” 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 


47 


Cyril seemed to himself to have entered upon a new life 
when he stepped across the threshold of David Dowsett’s 
store. All his cares and anxieties had dropped from him. 
For the past two years he had lived the life of an automaton, 
starting early to his work, returning in the middle of the day 
to his dinner,— to which as often as not he sat down alone, 
— and spending his evenings in utter loneliness in the bare 
garret, where he was generally in bed long before his father 
returned. He blamed himself sometimes during the first 
fortnight of his stay here for the feeling of light-heartedness 
that at times came over him. He had loved his father in 
spite of his faults, and should, he told himself, have felt 
deeply depressed at his loss; but nature was too strong for 
him. The pleasant evenings with Captain Dave and his 
family were to him delightful; he was like a traveller who, 
after a cold and cheerless journey, comes in to the warmth of 
a fire, and feels a glow of comfort as the blood circulates 
briskly through his veins. Sometimes, when he had no other 
engagements, he went out with Nellie Dowsett, whose lively 
chatter was new and very amusing to him. Sometimes they 
went up into Cheapside, and into St. Paul’s, but more often 
sallied out of the city at Aldgate, and walked into the fields. 
On these occasions he carried a stout cane that had been his 
father’s, for Nellie tried in vain to persuade him to gird on a 
sword. 

“You are a gentleman, Cyril,” she would argue, “and have 
a right to carry one.” 

“I am for the present a sober citizen, Mistress Nellie, and 
do not wish to assume to be of any other condition. Those 
one sees with swords are either gentlemen of the Court, or 
common bullies, or maybe highwaymen. After nightfall it is 
different; for then many citizens carry their swords, which 
indeed are necessary to protect them from the ruffians who, 
in spite of the city watch, oftentimes attack quiet passers-by; 
and if at any time I escort you to the house of one of your 
friends, I shall be ready to take my sword with me. But in 


48 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


the daytime there is no occasion for a weapon, and, moreover, 
I am full young to carry one, and this stout cane would, were 
it necessary, do me good service, for I learned in France the 
exercise that they call the baton, which differs little from our 
English singlestick.” 

While Cyril was received almost as a member of the family 
by Captain Dave and his wife, and found himself on excellent 
terms with John Wilkes, he saw that he was viewed with dis¬ 
like by the two apprentices. He was scarcely surprised at 
this. Before his coming, Robert Ashford had been in the 
habit of escorting his young mistress when she went out, and 
had no doubt liked these expeditions, as a change from the 
measuring out of ropes and weighing of iron in the store. 
Then, again, the apprentices did not join in the conversation 
at table unless a remark was specially addressed to them; and 
as Captain Dave was by no means fond of his elder appren¬ 
tice, it was but seldom that he spoke to him. Robert Ashford 
was between eighteen and nineteen. He was no taller than 
Cyril, but it would have been difficult to judge his age by 
his face, which had a wizened look; and, as Nellie said one 
day, in his absence, he might pass very well for sixty. 

It was easy enough for Cyril to see that Robert Ashford 
heartily disliked him; the covert scowls that he threw across 
the table at meal-time, and the way in which he turned his 
head and feigned to be too busy to notice him as he passed 
through the shop, were sufficient indications of ill-will. The 
younger apprentice, Tom Frost, was but a boy of fifteen; he 
gave Cyril the idea of being a timid lad. He did not appear 
to share his comrade’s hostility to him, but once or twice, 
when Cyril came out from the office after making up the 
accounts of the day, he fancied that the boy glanced at him 
with an expression of anxiety, if not of terror. 

“ If it were not,” Cyril said to himself, “ that Tom is clearly 
too nervous and timid to venture upon an act of dishonesty, 
I should say that he had been pilfering something; but I feel 
sure that he would not attempt such a thing as that, though I 


A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 


49 


am by no means certain that Robert Ashford, with his foxy 
face and cross eyes, would not steal his master’s goods or any 
one else’s did he get the chance. Unless he were caught in 
the act, he could do it with impunity, for everything here is 
carried on in such a free-and-easy fashion that any amount of 
goods might be carried off without their being missed.” 

After thinking the matter over, he said, one afternoon when 
his employer came in while he was occupied at the ac¬ 
counts,— 

“ I have not seen anything of a stock-book, Captain Dave. 
Everything else is now straight, and balanced up to to-day. 
Here is the book of goods sold, the book of goods received, 
and the ledger with the accounts; but there is no stock-book 
such as I find in almost all the other places where I work.” 

“What do I want with a stock-book?” Captain Dave asked. 

“You cannot know how you stand without it,” Cyril replied. 
“ You know how much you have paid, and how much you have 
received during the year; but unless you have a stock-book 
you do not know whether the difference between the receipts 
and expenditure represents profit, for the stock may have so 
fallen in value during the year that you may really have made 
a loss while seeming to make a profit.” 

“How can that be? ” Captain Dave asked. “I get a fair 
profit on every article.” 

“There ought to be a profit, of course,” Cyril said; “but 
sometimes it is found not to be so. Moreover, if there is a 
stock-book you can tell at any time, without the trouble of 
opening bins and weighing metal, how much stock you have 
of each article you sell, and can order your goods accord¬ 
ingly.” 

“ How would you do that? ” 

“It is very simple, Captain Dave,” Cyril said. “After 
taking stock of the whole of the goods, I should have a ledger 
in which each article would have a page or more to itself, and 
every day I should enter from John Wilkes’s sales-book a 
list of the goods that have gone out, each under its own head- 

D 


50 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


ing. Thus, at any moment, if you were to ask how much 
chain you had got in stock I could tell you within a fathom. 
When did you take stock last? ” 

“I should say it was about fifteen months since. It was 
only yesterday John Wilkes was saying we had better have a 
thorough overhauling.” 

“ Quite time, too, I should think, Captain Dave. I suppose 
you have got the account of your last stock-taking, with the 
date of it? ” 

“Oh, yes, I have got that; ” and the Captain unlocked his 
desk and took out an account-book. “ It has been lying there 
ever since. It took a wonderful lot of trouble to do, and I 
had a clerk and two men in for a fortnight, for of course John 
and the boys were attending to their usual duties. I have 
often wondered since why I should have had all that trouble 
over a matter that has never been of the slightest use to me.” 

“Well, I hope you will take it again, sir; it is a trouble, no 
doubt, but you will find it a great advantage.” 

“Are you sure you think it needful, Cyril?” 

“ Most needful, Captain Dave. You will see the advantage 
of it afterwards.” 

“Well, if you think so, I suppose it must be done,” the 
Captain said, with a sigh; “but it will be giving you a lot of 
trouble to keep this new book of yours.” 

“That is nothing, sir. Now that I have got all the back 
work up it will be a simple matter to keep the daily work 
straight. I shall find ample time to do it without any need 
of lengthening my hours.” j 

Cyril now set to work in earnest, and telling Mrs. Dowsett 
he had some books that he wanted to make up in his room 
before going to bed, he asked her to allow him to keep his 
light burning. 

Mrs. Dowsett consented, but shook her head and said he 
would assuredly injure his health if he worked by candle light. 

Fortunately, John Wilkes had just opened a fresh sales- 
book, and Cyril told him that he wished to refer to some par- 



A CHANGE FOR THE BETTER 


51 


ticulars in the back books. He first opened the ledger by 
inscribing under their different heads the amount of each 
description of goods kept in stock at the last stock-taking, 
and then entered under their respective heads all the sales 
that had been made, while on an opposite page he entered 
the amount purchased. It took him a month’s hard work, 
and he finished it on the very day that the new stock-taking 
concluded. 



CHAPTER III 

A THIEF SOMEWHERE 

T WO days after the conclusion of the stock-taking, Cyril 
said, after breakfast was over,— 

“ Would it trouble you, Captain Dave, to give me an hour 
up here before you go downstairs to the counting-house. I 
am free for two hours now, and there is a matter upon which 
I should like to speak to you privately.” 

“Certainly, lad,” the old sailor said, somewhat surprised. 
“We shall be quiet enough here, as soon as the table is cleared. 
My dame and Nellie will be helping the maid do up the cabins, 
and will then be sallying out marketing.” 

When the maid had cleared the table, Cyril went up to his 
room and returned with a large ledger and several smaller 
books. 

“I have, for the last month, Captain Dave, been making 
up this stock-book for my own satisfaction.” 

“Bless me, lad, why have you taken all that trouble? This 
accounts, then, for your writing so long at night, for which 
my dame has been quarrelling with you! ” 

“It was interesting work,” Cyril said quietly. “Now, you 
see, sir,” he went on, opening the big ledger, “here are the 
separate accounts under each head. These pages, you see, 
are for heavy cables for hawsers; of these, at the date of the 
last stock-taking, there were, according to the book you 
handed to me, five hundred fathoms in stock. These are the 
amounts you have purchased since. Now, upon the other 

52 









A THIEF SOMEWHERE 


53 


side are all the sales of this cable entered in the sales-book. 
Adding them together, and deducting them from tlie other 
side, you will see there should remain in stock four hundred 
and fifty fathoms. According to the new stock-taking there 
are four hundred and thirty-eight. That is, I take it, as 
near as you could expect to get, for, in the measuring out 
of so many thousand fathoms of cable during the fifteen 
months between the two stock-takings, there may well have 
been a loss of the twelve fathoms in giving good measure¬ 
ment.” 

“That is so,” Captain Dave said. “I always say to John 
Wilkes, ‘Give good measurement, John — better a little over 
than a little under.’ Nothing can be clearer or more satis¬ 
factory.” 

Cyril closed the book. 

“ I am sorry to say, Captain Dave, all the items are not so 
satisfactory, and that I greatly fear that you have been robbed 
to a considerable amount.” 

“ Robbed, lad! ” the Captain said, starting up from his 
chair. “Who should rob me? Not John Wilkes, I can be 
sworn! Not the two apprentices for a surety, for they never 
go out during the day, and John keeps a sharp look-out upon 
them, and the entrance to the shop is always locked and 
barred after work is over, so that none can enter without get¬ 
ting the key, which, as you know, John always brings up and 
hands to me as soon as he has fastened the door! You are 
mistaken, lad, and although I know that your intentions are 
good, you should be careful how you make a charge that might 
bring ruin to innocent men. Carelessness there may be; but 
robbery! No; assuredly not.” 

“I have not brought the charge without warrant, Captain 
Dave,” Cyril said gravely, “and if you will bear with me for 
a few minutes, I think you will see that there is at least some¬ 
thing that wants looking into.” 

“Well, it is only fair after the trouble you have taken, lad, 
that I should hear what you have to say; but it will need 


54 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


strong evidence indeed to make me believe that there has 
been foul play.” 

“Well, sir,” Cyril said, opening the ledger again, “in the 
first place, I would point out that in all the heavy articles, 
such as could not conveniently be carried away, the tally of 
the stock-takers corresponds closely with the figures in this 
book. In best bower anchors the figures are absolutely the 
same and, as you have seen, in heavy cables they closely cor¬ 
respond. In the large ship’s compasses, the ship’s boilers, 
and ship’s galleys, the numbers tally exactly. So it is with 
all the heavy articles; the main blocks are Correct, and all 
other heavy gear. This shows that John Wilkes’s book is 
carefully kept, and it would be strange indeed if heavy goods 
had all been properly entered, and light ones omitted; but 
yet when we turn to small articles, we find that there is a great 
discrepancy between the figures. Here is the account, for 
instance, of the half-inch rope. According to my ledger, 
there should be eighteen hundred fathoms in stock, whereas 
the stock-takers found but three hundred and eighty. In two- 
inch rope there is a deficiency of two hundred and thirty 
fathoms, in one-inch rope of six hundred and twenty. These 
sizes, as you know, are always in requisition, and a thief 
would find ready purchasers for a coil of any of them. But, 
as might be expected, it is in copper that the deficiency is 
most serious. Of fourteen-inch bolts, eighty-two are short, 
of twelve-inch bolts a hundred and thirty, of eight-inch three 
hundred and nine; and so on throughout almost all the copper 
stores. According to your expenditure and receipt-book, 
Captain Dave, you have made, in the last fifteen months, 
twelve hundred and thirty pounds; but according to this book 
your stock is less in value, by two thousand and thirty-four 
pounds, than it should have been. You are, therefore, a 
poorer man than you were at the beginning of this fifteen 
months’ trading, by eight hundred and four pounds.” 

Captain Dave sat down in his chair, breathing hard. He 
took out his handkerchief and wiped the drops of perspiration 
from his forehead. 




A THIEF SOMEWHERE 


55 


“Are you sure of this, boy?” he said hoarsely. “Are you 
sure that you have made no mistake in your figures? ” 

“Quite sure,” Cyril said firmly. “In all cases in which I 
have found deficiencies I have gone through the books three 
times and compared the figures, and I am sure that if you put 
the books into the hands of any city accountant, he will bear 
out my figures.” 

For a time Captain Dave sat silent. 

“Hast any idea,” he said at last, “how this has come 
about?” 

“I have none,” Cyril replied. “That John Wilkes is not 
concerned in it I am as sure as you are; and, thinking the 
matter over, I see not how the apprentices could have carried 
off so many articles, some heavy and some bulky, when they 
left the shop in the evening, without John Wilkes noticing 
them. So sure am I, that my advice would be that you 
should take John Wilkes into your confidence, and tell him 
how matters stand. My only objection to that is that he is a 
hasty man, and that I fear he would not be able to keep his 
countenance, so that the apprentices would remark that some¬ 
thing was wrong. I am far from saying that they have any 
hand in it; it would be a grievous wrong to them to have 
suspicions when there is no shadow of evidence against them; 
but at any rate, if this matter is to be stopped and the thieves 
detected, it is most important that they should have, if they 
are guilty, no suspicion that they are in any way being 
watched, or that these deficiencies have been discovered. 
If they have had a hand in the matter they most assuredly 
had accomplices, for such goods could not be disposed of 
by an apprentice to any dealer without his being sure that 
they must have been stolen.” 

“You are right there, lad — quite right. Did John Wilkes 
know that I had been robbed in this way he would get into a 
fury, and no words could restrain him from falling upon the 
apprentices and beating them till he got some of the truth out 
of them.” 


56 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“They may be quite innocent,” Cyril said. “It may be 
that the thieves have discovered some mode of entry into the 
store either by opening the shutters at the back, or by loosen¬ 
ing a board, or even by delving up under the ground. It is 
surely easier to believe this than that the boys can have con¬ 
trived to carry off so large a quantity of goods under John 
Wilkes’s eye.” 

“That is so, lad. I have never liked Robert Ashford, but 
God forbid that I should suspect him of such crime only 
because his forehead is as wrinkled as an ape’s, and Provi¬ 
dence has set his eyes crossways in his head. You cannot 
always judge a ship by her upper works; she may be ugly to 
the eye and yet have a clear run under water. Still, you can’t 
help going by what you see. I agree with you that if we tell 
John Wilkes about this, those boys will know five minutes 
afterwards that the ship is on fire; but if we don’t tell him, 
how are we to get to the bottom of what is going on? ” 

“That is a difficult question, but a few days will not make 
much difference, when we know that it has been going on for 
over a year, and may, for aught we know, have been going 
on much longer. The first thing, Captain Dave, is to send 
these books to an accountant, for him to go through them and 
check my figures.” 

“ There is no need for that, lad. I know how careful you 
are, and you cannot have gone so far wrong as all this.” 

“No, sir, I am sure that there is no mistake; but, for your 
own sake as well as mine, it were well that you should have 
the signature of an accountant to the correctness of the books. 
If you have to lay the matter before the magistrates, they 
would not take my testimony as to your losses, and might even 
say that you were rash in acting upon the word of a boy like 
myself, and you might then be obliged to have the accounts 
made up anew, which would cost you more, and cause much 
delay in the process; whereas, if you put in your books and 
say that their correctness is vouched for by an accountant, no 
question would arise on it; nor would there be any delay now, 


A THIEF SOMEWHERE 


57 


for while the books are being gone into, we can be trying to 
get to the bottom of the matter here.” 

“Ay, ay, it shall be done, Master Cyril, as you say. But 
for the life of me I don’t see how we are to get at the bottom 
of the ship to find out where she is leaking! ” 

“It seems to me that the first thing, Captain Dave, is to 
see to the warehouse. As we agreed that the apprentices can¬ 
not have carried out all these goods under John Wilkes’s eye, 
and cannot have come down x night after night through the 
house, the warehouse must have been entered from without. 
As I never go in there, it would be best that you should see 
to this matter yourself. There are the fastenings of the shut¬ 
ters in the first place, then the boardings all round. As for 
me, I will look round outside. The window of my room 
looks into the street, but if you will take me to one of the 
rooms at the back we can look at the surroundings of the 
yard, and may gather some idea whether the goods can have 
been passed over into any of the houses abutting on it, or, as 
is more likely, into the lane that runs up by its side.” 

The Captain led the way into one of the rooms at the back 
of the house, and opening the casement, he and Cyril leaned 
out. The store occupied fully half the yard, the rest being 
occupied by anchors, piles of iron, ballast, etc. There were 
two or three score of guns of various sizes piled on each other. 
A large store of cannon-ball was ranged in a great pyramid 
close by. A wall some ten feet high separated the yard from 
the lane Cyril had spoken of. On the left, adjoining the 
warehouse, was the yard of the next shop, which belonged to 
a wool-stapler. Behind were the backs of a number of small 
houses crowded in between Tower Street and Leadenhall 
Street. 

“I suppose you do not know who lives in those houses, 
Captain Dave ? ” 

“No, indeed. The land is not like the sea. Afloat, when 
one sees a sail, one wonders what is her nationality, and 
whither she is bound, and still more whether she is an honest 


58 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


trader or a rascally pirate; but here on land, one scarcely 
gives a thought as to who may dwell in the houses round.” 

“I will walk round presently,” Cyril said, “and gather, as 
far as I can, who they are that live there; but, as I have said, 

I fancy it is over that wall and into the alley that your goods 
have departed. The apprentices’ room is this side of the 
house, is it not? ” 

“Yes; John Wilkes sleeps in the room next to yours, and 
the door opposite to his is that of the lads’ room.” 

“Do the windows of any of the rooms look into that lane? ” 

“No; it is a blank wall on that side.” 

“There is the clock striking nine,” Cyril said, starting. 
“ It is time for me to be off. Then you will take the books 
to-day, Captain Dave?” 

“ I will carry them off at once, and when I return will look 
narrowly into the fastenings of the two windows and door 
from the warehouse into the yard; and will take care to do so 
when the boys are engaged in the front shop.” 

When his work was done, Cyril went round to the houses 
behind the yard, and he found that they stood in a small 
court, with three or four trees growing in the centre, and were 
evidently inhabited by respectable citizens. Over the door 
of one was painted, “Joshua Heddings, Attorney”; next to 
him was Gilbert Cushing, who dealt in jewels, silks, and other 
precious commodities from the East; next to him was a 
doctor, and beyond a dealer in spices. This was enough 
to assure him that it was not through such houses as these that 
the goods had been carried. 

Cyril had not been back at the mid-day meal, for his work 
that day lay up by Holborn Bar, where he had two customers 
whom he attended with but half an hour’s interval between 
the visits, and on the days on which he went there he was 
accustomed to get something to eat at a tavern hard by. 

Supper was an unusually quiet meal. Captain Dave now 
and then asked John Wilkes a question as to the business 
matters of the day, but evidently spoke with an effort. Nellie 


A THIEF SOMEWHERE 


59 


rattled on as usual; but the burden of keeping up the con¬ 
versation lay entirely on her shoulders and those of Cyril. 
After the apprentices had left, and John Wilkes had started 
for his usual resort, the Captain lit his pipe. Nellie signed 
to Cyril to come and seat himself by her in the window that 
projected out over the street, and enabled the occupants of 
the seats at either side to have a view up and down it. 

“What have you been doing to father, Cyril?” she asked, 
in low tones; “he has been quite unlike himself all day. 
Generally when he is out of temper he rates everyone heart¬ 
ily, as if we were a mutinous crew, but to-day he has gone 
about scarcely speaking; he hasn’t said a cross word to any of 
us, but several times when I spoke to him I got no answer, 
and it is easy to see that he is terribly put out about some¬ 
thing. He was in his usual spirits at breakfast; then, you know, 
he was talking with you for an hour, and it does not take much 
guessing to see that it must have been something that passed 
between you that has put him out. Now what was it? ” 

“I don’t see why you should say that, Mistress Nellie. It 
is true we did have a talk together, and he examined some 
fresh books I have been making out and said that he was 
mightily pleased with my work. I went away at nine o’clock, 
and something may have occurred to upset him between that 
and dinner.” 

“All which means that you don’t mean to tell me anything 
about it, Master Cyril. Well, then, you may consider your¬ 
self in my black books altogether,” she said petulantly. 

“I am sorry that you should say so,” he said. “If it were 
true that anything that I had said to him had ruffled him, it 
would be for him to tell you, and not for me.” 

“Methinks I have treated Robert Ashford scurvily, and I 
shall take him for my escort to see His Majesty attend ser¬ 
vice at St. Paul’s to-morrow.” 

Cyril smiled. 

“I think it would be fair to give him a turn, Mistress, and 
I am glad to see that you have such a kind thought.” 


60 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


Nellie rose indignantly, and taking her work sat down by 
the side of her mother. 

‘‘It is a fine evening,” Cyril said to Captain Dave, “and 
I think I shall take a walk round. I shall return in an 
hour.” 

The Captain understood, by a glance Cyril gave him, that 
he was going out for some purpose connected with the matter 
they had in hand. 

“Ay, ay, lad,” he said. “It is not good for you to be sit¬ 
ting moping at home every evening. I have often wondered 
before that you did not take a walk on deck before you turned 
in. I always used to do so myself.” 

“I don’t think there is any moping in it, Captain Dave,” 
Cyril said, with a laugh. “If you knew how pleasant the 
evenings have been to me after the life I lived before, you 
would not say so.” 

Cyril’s only object in going out, however, was to avoid the 
necessity of having to talk with Dame Dowsett and Nellie. 
His thoughts were running on nothing but the robbery, and 
he had found it very difficult to talk in his usual manner, 
and to answer Nellie’s sprightly sallies. It was dark already. 
A few oil lamps gave a feeble light here and there. At present 
he had formed no plan whatever of detecting the thieves; he 
was as much puzzled as the Captain himself as to how the 
goods could have been removed. It would be necessary, of 
course, to watch the apprentices, but he did not think that 
anything was likely to come out of this. It was the warehouse 
itself that must be watched, in order to discover how the 
thieves made an entry. His own idea was that they got over 
the wall by means of a rope, and in some way managed to 
effect an entry into the warehouse. The apprentices could 
hardly aid them unless they came down through the house. 

If they had managed to get a duplicate key of the door lead¬ 
ing from the bottom of the stairs to the shop, they could, of 
course, unbar the windows, and pass things out — that part 
of the business would be easy; but he could not believe that 


A THIEF SOMEWHERE 


61 


they would venture frequently to pass down through the house. 
It was an old one, and the stairs creaked. He himself was 
a light sleeper; he had £ot into the way of waking at the 
slightest sound, from the long watches he had had for his 
father’s return, and felt sure that he should have heard them 
open their door and steal along the passage past his room, 
however quietly they might do it. He walked up the Ex¬ 
change, then along Cheapside as far as St. Paul’s, and back. 
Quiet as it was in Thames Street there was no lack of anima¬ 
tion elsewhere. Apprentices were generally allowed to go out 
for an hour after supper, the regulation being that they returned 
to their homes by eight o’clock. Numbers of these were 
about. A good many citizens were on their way home after 
supping with friends. The city watch, with lanterns, patrolled 
the streets, and not infrequently interfered in quarrels which 
broke out among the apprentices. Cyril felt more solitary 
among the knots of laughing, noisy lads than in the quiet 
streets, and was glad to be home again. Captain Dave him¬ 
self came down to open the door. 

“I have just sent the women to bed,” he said. “The two 
boys came in five minutes ago. I thought you would not be 
long.” 

“I did not go out for anything particular,” Cyril said; “but 
Mistress Nellie insisted that there was something wrong with 
you, and that I must know what it was about, so, feeling 
indeed indisposed to talk, I thought it best to go out for a 
short time.” 

“Yes, yes. Women always want to know, lad. I have 
been long enough at sea, you may be sure, to know that when 
anything is wrong, it is the best thing to keep it from the 
passengers as long as you can.” 

“You took the books away this morning, Captain Dave?” 
Cyril asked as they sat down. 

“Ay, lad, I took them to Master Skinner, who bears as good 
a reputation as any accountant in the city, and he promised 
to take them in hand without loss of time; but I have been 


62 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


able to do nothing here. John, gr one or other of the boys, 
was always in the warehouse, and I have had no opportunity 
of examining the door and shutters closely. When the house 
is sound asleep we will take a lantern and go down to look at 
them. I have been thinking that we must let John Wilkes 
into this matter; it is too much to bear on my mind by my¬ 
self. He is my first mate, you see, and in time of danger, 
the first mate, if he is worth anything, is the man the captain 
relies on for help.” 

“By all means tell him, then,” Cyril said. “I can keep 
books, but I have no experience in matters like this, and shall 
be very glad to have his opinion and advice.” 

“There he is — half-past eight. He is as punctual as 
clockwork.” 

Cyril ran down and let John in. 

“The Captain wants to speak to you,” he said, “before you 
go up to bed.” 

John, after carefully bolting the door, followed him upstairs. 

“ I have got some bad news for you, John. There, light 
your pipe again, and sit down. My good dame has gone off 
to bed, and we have got the cabin to ourselves.” 

John touched an imaginary hat and obeyed orders. 

“The ship has sprung a bad leak, John. This lad here has 
found it out, and it is well he did, for unless he had done so 
we should have had her foundering under our feet without so 
much as suspecting anything was going wrong.” 

The sailor took his newly-lighted pipe from between his 
lips and stared at the Captain in astonishment. 

“Yes, it is hard to believe, mate, but, by the Lord Harry, 
it is as I say. There is a pirate about somewhere, and the 
books show that, since the stock-taking fifteen months ago, he 
has eased the craft of her goods to the tune of two thousand 
pounds and odd.” 

John Wilkes flung his pipe on to the table with such force 
that it shivered into fragments. 

“Dash my timbers!” he exclaimed. “Who is the man? 


A THIEF SOMEWHERE 


63 


You only give me the orders, sir, and I am ready to range 
alongside and board him.” 

“That is what we have got to find out, John. That the 
goods have gone is certain, but how they can have gone beats 
us altogether.” 

“ Do you mean to say, Captain, that they have stolen them 
out of the place under my eyes and me know nothing about 
it? It can’t be, sir. There must be some mistake. I know 
naught about figures, save enough to put down the things I 
sell, but I don’t believe as a thing has gone out of the shop 
unbeknown to me. That yarn won’t do for me, sir,” and he 
looked angrily at Cyril. 

“It is true enough, John, for all that. The books have 
been balanced up. We knew what was in stock fifteen months 
ago, and we knew from your sale-book what has passed out 
of the shop, and from your entry-book jvhat has come in. We 
know now what there is remaining. We find that in bulky 
goods, such as cables and anchors and ships’ boilers and such¬ 
like, the accounts tally exactly, but in the small rope, and 
above all in the copper, there is a big shrinkage. I will read 
you the figures of some of them.” 

John’s face grew longer and longer as he heard the totals 
read. 

“Well, I’m jiggered!” he said, when the list was con¬ 
cluded. “ I could have sworn that the cargo was right accord¬ 
ing to the manifest. Well, Captain, all I can say is, if that 
’ere list be correct, the best thing you can do is to send me 
adrift as a blind fool. I have kept my tallies as correct as I 
could, and I thought I had marked down every package that 
*has left the ship, and here they must have been passing out 
pretty nigh in cart-loads under my very eyes, and I knew 
nothing about it.” 

“ I don’t blame you, John, more than I blame myself. I 
am generally about on deck, and had no more idea that the 
cargo was being meddled with than you had. I have been 
wrong in letting matters go on so long without taking stock 


64 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


of them and seeing that it was all right; but I never saw the 
need for it. This is what comes of taking to a trade you 
know nothing about; we have just been like two children, 
thinking that it was all plain and above board, and that we 
had nothing to do but to sell our goods and to fill up again 
when the hold got empty. Well, it is of no use talking over 
that part of the business. What we have got to do is to find 
out this leak and stop it. We are pretty well agreed, Cyril 
and me, that the things don’t go out of the shop by daylight. 
The question is, how do they go out at night? ” 

“ I always lock up the hatches according to orders, Cap¬ 
tain.” 

“Yes, I have no doubt you do, John; but maybe the fasten¬ 
ings have been tampered with. The only way in which we 
see it can have been managed is that someone has been in 
the habit of getting over the wall between the yard and the 
lane, and then getting into the warehouse somehow. It must 
have been done very often, for if the things had been taken 
in considerable quantities you would have noticed that the 
stock was short directly the next order came in. Now I pro¬ 
pose we light these two lanterns I have got here, and that we 
go down and have a look round the hold.” 

Lighting the candles, they went downstairs. The Captain 
took out the key and turned the lock. It grated loudly as he 
did so. 

“That is a noisy lock,” Cyril said. 

“It wants oiling,” John replied. “I have been thinking 
of doing it for the last month, but it has always slipped out 
of my mind.” 

“At any rate,” Cyril said, “it is certain that thieves could 
not have got into the shop this way, for the noise would have 
been heard all over the house.” 

The door between the shop and the warehouse was next 
unlocked. The fastenings of the shutters and doors were first 
examined; there was no sign of their having been tampered 
with. Each bolt and hasp was tried, and the screws examined. 


A THIEF SOMEWHERE 


65 


Then they went round trying every one of the stout planks 
that formed the side; all were firm and in good condition. 

“It beats me altogether,” the Captain said, when they had 
finished their examination. “The things cannot walk out of 
themselves; they have got to be carried. But how the fellows 
who carry them get in is more than I can say. There is no¬ 
where else to look, is there, John? ” 

“Not that I can see, Captain.” 

They went to the door into the shop, and were about to 
close it, when Cyril said,— 

“ Some of the things that are gone are generally kept in 
here, Captain — the rope up to two inch, for example, and a 
good deal of canvas, and most of the smaller copper fittings; 
so that, whoever the thief is, he must have been in the habit 
of coming in here as well as into the warehouse.” 

“That is so, lad. Perhaps they entered from this side.” 

“Will you hold the lantern here, John?” Cyril said. 

The sailor held the lantern to the lock. 

“ There are no scratches nor signs of tools having been used 
here,” Cyril said, examining both the lock and the door-post. 
“ Whether the thief came into the warehouse first, or not, he 
must have had a key.” 

The Captain nodded. 

“Thieves generally carry a lot of keys with them, Cyril; 
and if one does not quite fit they can file it until it 
does.” 

The shutters of the shop window and its fastenings, and 
those of the door, were as secure as those of the ware¬ 
house, and, completely puzzled, the party went upstairs 
again. 

“There must be some way of getting in and out, although 
we can’t find it,” Captain Dave said. “Things can’t have 
gone off by themselves.” 

“It may be, Captain,” John Wilkes said, “that some of the 
planks may be loose.” 

“But we tried them all, John.” 

£ 


66 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“Ay, they seem firm enough, but it may be that one of them 
is wedged in, and that when the wedges are taken out it could 
be pulled off.” 

“I think you would have noticed it, John. If there was 
anything of that sort it must be outside. However, we will 
take a good look round the yard to-morrow. The warehouse 
is strongly built, and I don’t believe that any plank could be 
taken off and put back again, time after time, without making 
a noise that would be heard in the house. What do you 
think, Cyril?” 

“ I agree with you, Captain Dave. How the thieves make 
an entry I can’t imagine, but I don’t believe that it is through 
the wall of the warehouse. I am convinced that the rob¬ 
beries must have been very frequent. Had a large amount 
been taken at a time, John Wilkes would have been sure to 
notice it. Then, again, the thieves would not come so often, 
and each time for a comparatively small amount of booty, 
unless it could be managed without any serious risk or trouble. 
However, now that we do know that they come, we shall have, 
I should think, very little difficulty in finding out how it is 
done.” 

“You may warrant we will keep a sharp look-out,” John 
Wilkes said savagely. “If the Captain will give me the use 
of a room at the back of the house, you may be sure I sha’n’t 
close an eye till I have got to the bottom of the matter. I 
am responsible for the cargo below, and if I had kept as sharp 
an eye on the stores as I ought to have done, this would not 
have happened. Only let me catch them trying to board, and 
I will give them such a reception that I warrant me they will 
sheer off with a bullet or two in them. I have got that pair 
of boarding pistols, and a cutlass, hung up over my bed.” 

“You must not do that, John,” the Captain said. “It isn’t 
a matter of beating off the pirates by pouring a broadside 
into them. Maybe you might cripple them, more likely they 
would make off, and we want to capture them. Therefore, 
I say, let us watch, and find out how they do it. When we 


A THIEF SOMEWHERE 


67 


once know that, we can lay our plans for capturing them the 
next time they come. I will take watch and watch with you.” 

“Well, if it goes on long, Captain, I won’t say no to that; 
but for to-night anyhow I will sit up alone.” 

“Very well, let it be so, John. But mind, whatever you 
see, you keep as still as a mouse. Just steal to my room in 
your stockinged feet directly you see anything moving. Open 
the door and say, ‘Strange sail in sight! ’ and I will be over 
at your window in no time. And now, Cyril, you and I may 
as well turn in.” 

The night passed quietly. 

“You saw nothing, I suppose, John?” the Captain said 
next morning, after the apprentices had gone down from 
breakfast. 

“Not a thing, Captain.” 

“Now we will go and have a look in the yard. Will you 
come, Cyril?” 

“I should like to come,” Cyril replied, “but, as I have 
never been out there before, had you not better make some 
pretext for me to do so. You might say, in the hearing of 
the apprentices, ‘We may as well take the measurements for 
that new shed we were talking about, and see how much board¬ 
ing it will require.’ Then you can call to me out from the 
office to come and help you to measure.” 

“Then you still think the apprentices are in it?” John 
Wilkes asked sharply. 

“I don’t say I think so, John. I have nothing against 
them. I don’t believe they could, come down at night with¬ 
out being heard; I feel sure they could not get into the shop 
without that stiff bolt making a noise. Still, as it is possible 
they may be concerned in the matter, I think that, now we 
have it in good train for getting to the bottom of it, it would 
be well to keep the matter altogether to ourselves.” 

“Quite right,” Captain Dave said approvingly. “When 
you suspect treachery, don’t let a soul think that you have got 
such a matter in your mind, until you are in a position to 


68 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


take the traitor by the collar and put a pistol to his ear. That 
idea of yours is a very good one; I will say something about 
the shed to John this morning, and then when you go down 
to the counting-house after dinner I will call to you to come 
out to the yard with us.” 

After dinner, Captain Dave went with Cyril into the count¬ 
ing-house. 

“We had an order in this morning for a set of ship’s 
anchors, and John and I have been in the yard looking them 
out; we looked over the place pretty sharply, as you may be 
sure, but as far as we could see the place is as solid as when 
it was built, fifty years ago, by my father.” 

The Captain went out into the store, and ten minutes 
afterwards re-entered the shop and shouted,— 

“ Come out here, Cyril, and lend a hand. We are going 
to take those measurements. Bring out your ink-horn, and a 
bit of paper to put them down as we take them.” 

The yard was some sixty feet long by twenty-five broad, 
exclusive of the space occupied by the warehouse. This, as 
Cyril had observed from the window above, did not extend as 
far as the back wall; but on walking round there with the two 
men, he found that the distance was greater than he had 
expected, and that there was a space of some twenty feet 
clear. 

“This is where we are thinking of putting the shed,” the 
Captain said in a loud voice. 

“But I see that you have a crane and door into the loft 
over the warehouse there,” Cyril said, looking up. 

“We never use that now. When my father first began busi¬ 
ness, he used to buy up old junk and such-like stores, and 
store them up there, but it didn’t pay for the trouble; and, 
besides, as you see, he wanted every foot of the yard room, 
and of course at that time they had to leave a space clear for 
the carts to come up from the gate round here, so it was 
given up, and the loft is empty now.” 

Cyril looked up at the crane. It was swung round so as to 


A THIEF SOMEWHERE 


69 


lie flat against the wooden shutters. The rope was still 
through the block, and passed into the loft through a hole cut 
at the junction of the shutters. 

They now measured the space between the warehouse and 
the wall, the Captain repeating the figures, still in a loud 
voice; then they discussed the height of the walls, and after 
some argument between the Captain and John Wilkes agreed 
that this should be the same as the rest of the building. Still 
talking on the subject, they returned through the warehouse, 
Cyril on the way taking a look at the massive gate that opened 
into the lane. In addition to a heavy bar it had a strong 
hasp, fastened by a great padlock. The apprentices were 
busy at work coiling up some rope when they passed by. 

“When we have knocked a door through the end there, 
John,” Captain Dave said, “it will give you a deal more 
room, and you will be able to get rid of all these cables and 
heavy dunnage, and to have matters more ship-shape here.” 

While they had been taking the measurements, all three 
had carefully examined the wall of the warehouse. 

“There is nothing wrong there, Cyril,” his employer said, 
as, leaving John Wilkes in the warehouse, they went through 
the shop into the little office. 

“Certainly nothing that I could see, Captain Dave. I did 
not before know the loft had any opening to the outside. Of 
course I have seen the ladder going up from the warehouse to 
that trap-door; but as it was closed I thought no more of it.” 

“I don’t suppose anyone has been up there for years, lad. 
What, are you thinking that someone might get in through 
those shutters? Why, they are twenty feet from the ground, 
so that you would want a long ladder, and when you got up 
there you would find that you could not open the shutters. I 
said nobody had been up there, but I did go up myself to 
have a look round when I first settled down here, and there 
is a big bar with a padlock.” 

Cyril thought no more about it, and after supper it was 
arranged that he and Captain Dave should keep watch by turns 


70 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


at the window of the room that had been now given to John 
Wilkes, and that the latter should have a night in his berth, 
as the Captain expressed it. John Wilkes had made some 
opposition, saying that he would be quite willing to take his 
watch. 

“You will just obey orders, John,” the Captain said. “You 
have had thirty-six hours off the reel on duty, and you have 
got to be at work all day to-morrow again. You shall take 
the middle watch to-morrow night if you like, but one can 
see with half an eye that you are not fit to be on the look¬ 
out to-night. I doubt if any of us could see as far as the 
length of the bowsprit. It is pretty nearly pitch dark; there 
is not a star to be seen, and it looked to me, when I turned 
out before supper, as if we were going to have a storm.” 




CHAPTER IV 

CAPTURED 

I T was settled that Cyril was to take the first watch, and that 
the Captain should relieve him at one o’clock. At nine, 
the family went to bed. A quarter of an hour later, Cyril 
stole noiselessly from his attic down to John Wilkes’s room. 
The door had been left ajar, and the candle was still burning. 

“I put a chair by the window,” the sailor said, from his 
bed, “and left the light, for you might run foul of something 
or other in the dark, though I have left a pretty clear gangway 
for you.” 

Cyril blew out the candle, and seated himself at the win¬ 
dow. For a time he could see nothing, and told himself that 
the whole contents of the warehouse might be carried off with¬ 
out his being any the wiser. 

“I shall certainly see nothing,” he said to himself; “but, 
at least, I may hear something.” 

So saying, he turned the fastening of the casement and 
opened it about half an inch. As his eyes became accustomed 
to the darkness, he was able to make out the line of the roof 
of the warehouse, which was some three or four feet below the 
level of his eyes, and some twenty feet away on his left. The 
time passed slowly. He kept himself awake by thinking over 
the old days in France, the lessons he had learnt with his 
friend, Harry Parton, and the teaching of the old clergyman. 

He heard the bell of St. Paul’s strike ten and eleven. The 
last stroke had scarcely ceased to vibrate when he rose to his 

71 









72 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


feet suddenly. He heard, on his left, a scraping noise. A 
moment later it ceased, and then was renewed again. It 
lasted but a few seconds; then he heard an irregular, shuffling 
noise, that seemed to him upon the roof of the warehouse. 
Pressing his face to the casement, he suddenly became aware 
that the straight line of the ridge was broken by something 
moving along it, and a moment later he made out a second 
object, just behind the first. Moving with the greatest care, 
he made his way out of the room, half closed the door behind 
him, crossed the passage, and pushed at a door opposite. 

“Captain Dave,” he said, in a low voice, “get up at once, 
and please don’t make a noise.” 

“Ay, ay, lad.” 

There was a movement from the bed, and a moment later 
the Captain stood beside him. 

“What is it, lad?” he whispered. 

“There are two figures moving along on the ridge of the 
roof of the warehouse. I think it is the apprentices. I heard 
a slight noise, as if they were letting themselves down from 
their window by a rope. It is just over that roof, you know.” 

There was a rustling sound as the Captain slipped his doub¬ 
let on. 

“ That is so. The young scoundrels! What can they be 
doing on the roof? ” 

They went to the window behind. Just as they reached it 
there was a vivid flash of lightning. It sufficed to show them 
a figure lying at full length at the farther end of the roof; then 
all was dark again, and a second or two later came a sharp, 
crashing roar of thunder. 

“We had better stand well back from the window,” Cyril 
whispered. “Another flash might show us to anyone looking 
this way.” 

“What does it mean, lad? What on earth is that boy doing 
there? I could not see which it was.” 

“I think it is Ashford,” Cyril said. “The figure in front 
seemed the smaller of the two.” 


CAPTURED 


73 


“ But where on earth can Tom have got to ? ” 

“ I should fancy, sir, that Robert has lowered him so that 
he can get his feet on the crane and swing it outwards; then 
he might sit down on it and swing himself by the rope into 
the loft if the doors are not fastened inside. Robert, being 

taller, would have no difficulty in lowering himself- 

There! ” he broke off, as another flash of lightning lit up the 
sky. “He has gone, now; there is no one on the roof.” 

John Wilkes was by this time standing beside them, having 
started up at the first flash of lightning. 

“Do you go up, John, into their room,” the Captain said. 
“ I think there can be no doubt that these fellows on the roof 
are Ashford and Frost, but it is as well to be able to swear 
to it.” 

The foreman returned in a minute or two. 

“The room is empty, Captain; the window is open, and 
there is a rope hanging down from it. Shall I cast it adrift? ” 

“Certainly not, John. We do not mean to take them to¬ 
night, and they must be allowed to go back to their beds with¬ 
out a suspicion that they have been watched. I hope and 
trust that it is not so bad as it looks, and that the boys have 
only broken out from devilry. You knoiv, boys will do 
things of that sort just because it is forbidden.” 

“There must be more than that,” John Wilkes said. “ If it 
had been just after they went to their rooms, it might be that 
they went to some tavern or other low resort, but the town is 
all asleep now.” 

They again went close to the window, pushed the casement 
a little more open, and stood listening there. In two or three 
minutes there was a very slight sound heard. 

“They are unbolting the door into the yard,” John Wilkes 
whispered. “I would give a month’s pay to be behind them 
with a rope’s end.” 

Half a minute later there was a sudden gleam of light be¬ 
low, and they could see the door open. The light disappeared 
again, but they heard footsteps; then they saw the light thrown 



74 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


on the fastening to the outer gate, and could make out that 
two figures below were applying a key to the padlock. This 
was taken off and laid down; then the heavy wooden bar was 
lifted, and also laid on the ground. The gate opened as if 
pushed from the other side. The two figures went out; the 
sound of a low murmur of conversation could be heard; then 
they returned, the gate was closed and fastened again, they 
entered the warehouse, the light disappeared, and the door 
was closed. 

“That’s how the things went, John.” 

“Ay, ay, sir,” the foreman growled. 

“As they were undoing the gate, the light fell on a coil of 
rope they had set down there, and a bag which I guess had 
copper of some kind in it. They have done us cleverly, the 
young villains! There was not noise enough to wake a cat. 
They must have had every bolt and hinge well oiled.” 

“We had better close the casement now, sir, for as they 
come back along the ridge they will be facing it, and if a flash 
of lightning came they would see that it was half open, and 
even if they did not catch sight of our faces they would think 
it suspicious that the window should be open, and it might 
put them on their guard.” 

“Yes; and we may as well turn in at once, John. Like 
enough when they get back they will listen for a bit at their 
door, so as to make sure that everything is quiet before they 
turn in. There is nothing more to see now. Of course they 
will get in as they got out. You had better turn in as you are, 
Cyril; they may listen at your door.” 

Cyril at once went up to his room, closed the door, placed 
a chair against it, and then lay down on his bed. He listened 
intently, and four or five minutes later thought that he heard 
a door open; but he could not be sure, for just at that moment 
heavy drops began to patter down upon the tiles. The noise 
rose louder and louder until he could scarce have heard him¬ 
self speak. Then there was a bright flash and the deep rumble 
of the thunder mingled with the sharp rattle of the raindrops 


CAPTURED 


75 


overhead. He listened for a time to the storm, and then 
dropped off to sleep. 

Things went on as usual at breakfast the next morning. 
During the meal, Captain Dave gave the foreman several in¬ 
structions as to the morning’s work. 

“I am going on board the Royalist ,” he said. “John 
Browning wants me to overhaul all the gear, and see what will 
do for another voyage or two, and what must be new. His 
skipper asked for new running rigging all over, but he thinks 
that there can’t be any occasion for its all being renewed. I 
don’t expect I shall be in till dinner-time, so anyone that 
wants to see me must come again in the afternoon.” 

Ten minutes later, Cyril went out, on his way to his work. 
Captain Dave was standing a few doors away. 

“ Before I go on board the brig, lad, I am going up to the 
Chief Constable’s to arrange about this business. I want to 
get four men of the watch. Of course, it may be some nights 
before this is tried again, so I shall have the men stowed away 
in the kitchen. Then we must keep watch, and as soon as 
we see those young villains on the roof, we will let the men 
out at the front door. Two will post themselves this end of 
the lane, and two go round into Leadenhall Street and station 
themselves at the other end. When the boys go out after sup¬ 
per we will unlock the door at the bottom of the stairs into 
the shop, and the door into the warehouse. Then we will 
steal down into the shop and listen there until we hear them 
open the door into the yard, and then go into the warehouse 
and be ready to make a rush out as soon as they get the gate 
open. John will have his boatswain’s whistle ready, and will 
give the signal. That will bring the watch up, so they will be 
caught in a trap.” 

“ I should think that would be a very good plan, Captain 
Dave, though I wish that it could have been done without 
Tom Frost being taken. He is a timid sort of boy, and I 
have no doubt that he has been entirely under the thumb of 
Robert.” 


76 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“Well, if he has he will get off lightly,” the Captain said. 
“Even if a boy is a'timid boy, he knows what will be the 
consequences if he is caught robbing his master. Cowardice 
is no excuse for crime, lad. The boys have always been well 
treated, and though I dare say Ashford is^ the worst of the 
two, if the other had been honest he would not have seen him 
robbing me without letting me know.” 

For six nights watch was kept without success. Every even¬ 
ing, when the family and apprentices had retired to rest, 
John Wilkes went quietly downstairs and admitted the four 
constables, letting them out in the morning before anyone 
was astir. Mrs. Dowsett had been taken into her husband’s 
confidence so far as to know that he had discovered he had 
been robbed, and was keeping a watch for the thieves. She 
was not told that the apprentices were concerned in the mat¬ 
ter, for Captain Dave felt sure that, however much she might 
try to conceal it, Robert Ashford would perceive, by her looks, 
that something was wrong. 

Nellie was told a day or two later, for, although ignorant of 
her father’s nightly watchings, she was conscious from his 
manner, and that of her mother, that something was amiss, 
and was so persistent in her inquiries, that the Captain con¬ 
sented to her mother telling her that he had a suspicion he 
was being robbed, and warning her that it was essential that 
the subject must not be in any way alluded to. 

“Your father is worrying over it a good deal, Nellie, and 
it is better that he should not perceive that you are aware of 
it. Just let things go on as they were.” 

“Is the loss serious, mother?” 

“Yes; he thinks that a good deal of money has gone. I 
don’t think he minds that so much as the fact that, so far, he 
doesn’t know who the people most concerned in it may be. 
He has some sort of suspicion in one quarter, but has no clue 
whatever to the men most to blame.” 

“Does Cyril know anything about it?” Nellie asked sud¬ 
denly. 


CAPTURED 


77 


“Yes, he knows, my dear; indeed, it was owing to his 
cleverness that your father first came to have suspicions.” 

“Oh! that explains it,” Nellie said. “He had been talk¬ 
ing to father, and I asked what it was about and he would not 
tell me, and I have been very angry with him ever since.” 

“I have noticed that you have been behaving very fool¬ 
ishly,” Mrs. Dowsett said quietly, “and that for the last week 
you have been taking Robert with you as an escort when you 
went out of an evening. I suppose you did that to annoy 
Cyril, but I don’t think that he minded much.” 

“I don’t think he did, mother,” Nellie agreed, with a laugh 
which betrayed a certain amount of irritation. “ I saw that 
he smiled, two or three evenings back, when I told Robert at 
supper that I wanted him to go out with me, and I was rarely 
angry, I can tell you.” 

Cyril had indeed troubled himself in no way about Nellie’s 
coolness; but when she had so pointedly asked Robert to go 
with her, he had been amused at the thought of how greatly 
she would be mortified, when Robert was haled up to the 
Guildhall for robbing her father, at the thought that he had 
been accompanying her as an escort. 

“I rather hope this will be our last watch, Captain Dave,” 
he said, on the seventh evening. 

“Why do you hope so specially to-night, lad?” 

“Of course I have been hoping so every night. But I 
think it is likely that the men who take the goods come regu¬ 
larly once a week; for in that case there would be no occa¬ 
sion for them to meet at other times to arrange on what night 
they should be in the lane.” 

“Yes, that is like enough, Cyril; and the hour will prob¬ 
ably be the same, too. John and I will share your watch 
to-night, so as to be ready to get the men off without loss of 
time.” 

Cyril had always taken the first watch, which was from half¬ 
past nine till twelve. The Captain and Wilkes had taken the 
other watches by turns. 


78 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


As before, just as the bell finished striking eleven, the three 
watchers again heard through the slightly open casement the 
scraping noise on the left. It had been agreed that they 
should not move, lest the sound should be heard outside. 
Each grasped the stout cudgel he held in his hand, and gazed 
at the roof of the warehouse, which could now be plainly 
seen, for the moon was half full and the sky was clear. As 
before, the two figures went along, and this time they could 
clearly recognise them. They were both sitting astride of the 
ridge tiles, and moved themselves along by means of their 
hands. They waited until they saw one after the other dis¬ 
appear at the end of the roof, and then John Wilkes quietly 
stole downstairs. The four constables had been warned to 
be specially wakeful. 

“They are at it again to-night,” John said to them, as he 
entered. “Now, do you two who go round into Leadenhall 
Street start at once, but don’t take your post at the end of the 
lane for another five or six minutes. The thieves outside may 
not have come up at present. As you go out, leave the door 
ajar; in five minutes you others should stand ready. Don’t 
go to the corner, but wait in the doorway below until you 
hear the whistle. They will be only fifteen or twenty yards 
up the lane, and would see you if you took up your station at 
the corner; but the moment you hear the whistle, rush out 
and have at them. We shall be there before you will.” 

John went down with the last two men, entered the shop, 
and stood there waiting until he should be joined by his master. 
The latter and Cyril remained at the window until they saw 
the door of the warehouse open, and then hurried downstairs. 
Both were in their stockinged feet, so that their movements 
should be noiseless. 

“Come on, John; they are in the yard,” the Captain whis¬ 
pered ; and they entered the warehouse and went noiselessly 
on, until they stood at the door. The process of unbarring 
the gate was nearly accomplished. As it swung open, John 
Wilkes put his whistle to his lips and blew a loud, shrill call, 



“ ROBERT ASHFORD, KNIFE IN HAND, ATTACKED JOHN WILKES 

WITH FURY.” 

















CAPTURED 


79 


and the three rushed forward. There was a shout of alarm, 
a fierce imprecation, and three of the four figures at the gate 
sprang at them. Scarce a blow had been struck when the two 
constables ran up and joined in the fray. Two men fought 
stoutly, but were soon overpowered. Robert Ashford, knife 
in hand, had attacked John Wilkes with fury, and would have 
stabbed him, as his attention was engaged upon one of the 
men outside, had not Cyril brought his cudgel down sharply 
on his knuckles, when, with a yell of pain, he dropped the 
knife and fled up the lane. He had gone but a short 
distance, however, when he fell into the hands of the two 
constables, who were running towards him. One of them 
promptly knocked him down with his cudgel, and then pro¬ 
ceeded to bind his hands behind him, while the other ran on 
to join in the fray. It was over before he got there, and his 
comrades were engaged in binding the two robbers. Tom 
Frost had taken no part in the fight. He stood looking on, 
paralysed with terror, and when the two men were over¬ 
powered he fell on his knees beseeching his master to have 
mercy on him. 

“It is too late, Tom,” the Captain said. “You have been 
robbing me for months, and now you have been caught in the 
act you will have to take your share in the punishment. You 
are a prisoner of the constables here, and not of mine, and 
even if I were willing to let you go, they wouki have their say 
in the matter. Still, if you make a clean breast of what you 
know about it, I will do all I can to get you off lightly; and 
seeing that you are but a boy, and have been, perhaps, led into 
this, they will not be disposed to be hard on you. Pick up 
that lantern and bring it here, John; let us see what plunder 
they were making off with.” 

There was no rope this time, but a bag containing some 
fifty pounds’ weight of brass and copper fittings. One of the 
constables took possession of this. 

“You had better come along with us to the Bridewell, 
Master Dowsett, to sign the charge sheet, though I don’t know 



80 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


whether it is altogether needful, seeing that we have caught 
them in the act; and you will all three have to be at the Court 
to-morrow at ten o’clock.” 

“ I will go with you,” the Captain said; “but I will first slip 
in and put my shoes on; I brought them down in my hand 
and shall be ready in a minute. You may as well lock up this 
gate again, John. I will go out through the front door and 
join them in the lane.” As he went into the house, John 
Wilkes closed the gate and put up the bar, then took up the 
lantern and said to Cyril,— 

“Well, Master Cyril, this has been a good night’s work, and 
mighty thankful I am that we have caught the pirates. It was 
a good day for us all when you came to the Captain, or they 
might have gone on robbing him till the time came that there 
was nothing more to rob; and I should never have held up my 
head again, for though the Captain would never believe that I 
had had a hand in bringing him to ruin, other people would 
not have thought so, and I might never have got a chance of 
proving my innocence. Now we will just go to the end of the 
yard and see if they did manage to get into the warehouse by 
means of that crane, as you thought they did.” 

They found that the crane had been swung out just far 
enough to afford a foot-hold to those lowering themselves on 
to it from the roof. The door of the loft stood open. 

“Just as you said. You could not have been righter, not if 
you had seen them at it. And now I reckon we may as well 
lock up the place again, and turn in. The Captain has got 
the key of the front door, and we will leave the lantern burning 
at the bottom of the stairs.” 

Cyril got up as soon as he heard a movement in the house, 
and went down to the shop, which had been already opened by 
John Wilkes. 

“It seems quiet here, without the apprentices, John. Is 
there any way in which I can help? ” 

“No, thank you, sir. We sha’n’t be moving the goods 
about till after breakfast, and then, no doubt, the Captain will 


CAPTURED 


81 


get an extra man in to help me. I reckon he will have to 
get a neighbour in to give an eye to the place while we are all 
away at the Court.” 

“I see there is the rope still hanging from their window,” 
Cyril said, as he went out into the yard. 

“I thought it best to leave it there,” John Wilkes replied, 
“and I ain’t been up into the loft either. It is best to leave 
matters just as they were. Like enough, they will send an 
officer down from the Court to look at them.” 

When the family assembled at breakfast, Mrs. Dowsett was 
looking very grave. The Captain, on the other hand, was in 
capital spirits. Nellie, as usual, was somewhat late. 

“Where is everybody?” she asked in surprise, seeing that 
Cyril alone was in his place with her father and mother. 

“John Wilkes is downstairs, looking after the shop, and will 
come ifp and have his breakfast when we have done,” her 
father replied. 

“Are both the apprentices out, then?” she asked. 

“The apprentices are in limbo,” the Captain said grimly. 

“ In limbo, father! What does that mean? ” 

“It means that they are in gaol, my dear.” 

Nellie put down the knife and fork that she had just taken up. 

“Are you joking, father?” 

“Very far from it, my dear; it is no joke to any of us — 
certainly not to me, and not to Robert Ashford, or Tom Frost. 
They have been robbing me for the last year, and, for aught I 
know, before that. If it had not been for Master Cyril it 
would not have been very long before I should have had to put 
my shutters up.” 

“But how could they rob you, father?” 

“By stealing my goods, and selling them, Nellie. The way 
they did it was to lower themselves by a rope from their win¬ 
dow on to the roof of the warehouse, and to get down at the 
other end on to the crane, and then into the loft. Then they 
went down and took what they had a fancy to, undid the door, 
and went into the yard, and then handed over their booty to 

F 


82 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


the fellows waiting at the gate for it. Last night we caught 
them at it, after having been on the watch for ten days.” 

“That is what I heard last night, then,” she said. “I was 
woke by a loud whistle, and then I heard a sound of quarrelling 
and fighting in the lane. I thought it was some roysterers 
going home late. Oh, fatlTer, it is dreadful to think of! And 
what will they do to them? ” 

“It is a hanging matter,” the Captain said; “it is not only 
theft, but mutiny. No doubt the judges will take a lenient 
view of Tom Frost’s case, both on the ground of his youth, and 
because, no doubt, he was influenced by Ashford; but I would 
not give much for Robert’s chances. No doubt it will be a 
blow to you, Nellie, for you seem to have taken to him 
mightily of late.” 

Nellie was about to give an emphatic contradiction, but as 
she remembered how pointedly she had asked for his escort 
during the last few days, she flushed up, and was silent. 

“It is terrible to think of,” she said, after a pause. “I 
suppose this is what you and Cyril were consulting about, 
father. I have to ask your pardon, Master Cyril, for my rude¬ 
ness to you; but of course I did not think it4was anything of 
consequence, or that you could not have told me if you had 
wished to do so.” 

“You need not beg my pardon, Mistress Nellie. No doubt 
you thought it churlish on my part to refuse to gratify your 
curiosity, and I am not surprised that you took offence. I 
knew that when you learned how important it was to keep 
silence over the matter, that you would acquit me of the inten¬ 
tion of making a mystery about nothing.” 

“I suppose you knew, mother?” Nellie asked. 

“ I knew that your father believed that he was being robbed, 
Nellie, and that he was keeping watch for some hours every 
night, but I did not know that he suspected the apprentices. 
I am glad that we did not, for assuredly we should have found 
it very hard to school our faces so that they should not guess 
that aught was wrong.” 


CAPTURED 


83 


“That was why we said nothing about it, Nellie. It has 
been as much as I have been able to do to sit at table, and 
talk in the shop as usual, with boys I knew were robbing me; 
and I know honest John Wilkes must have felt it still more. 
But till a week ago we would not believe that they had a 
hand in the matter. It is seven nights since Cyril caught them 
creeping along the roof, and called me to the window in John 
Wilkes’s room, whence he was watching the yard, not thinking 
the enemy was in the house.” 

“And how did you come to suspect that robbery was going 
on, Cyril? ” 

“ Simply because, on making up the books, I found there 
was a great deficiency in the stores.” 

“That is what he was doing when he was sitting up at 
night, after you were in bed, Miss Nellie,” her father said. 
“You may thank your stars that he took a berth in this ship, 
for the scoundrels would have foundered her to a certainty, 
if he had not done so. I tell you, child, he has saved this 
craft from going to the bottom. I have not said much to him 
about it, but he knows that I don’t feel it any the less.” 

“And who were the other men who were taken, father? ” 

“That I can’t tell you, Nellie. I went to the Bridewell 
with them, and as soon as I saw them safely lodged there I 
came home. They will be had up before the Lord Mayor 
this morning, and then I dare say I shall know all about them. 
Now I must go and take my watch below, and let John Wilkes 
come off duty.” 

“Why, John, what is the matter? ” Mrs. Dowsett said, when 
the foreman entered. 

“ Nothing worth speaking of, Mistress. I got a clip over 
the eye from one of the pirates we were capturing. The 
thing mattered nothing, one way or the other, but it might 
have cost me my life, because, for a moment, it pretty well 
dazed me. That young villain, Bob, was just coming at me 
with his knife, and I reckon it would have gone hard with me 
if Master Cyril here hadn’t, just in the nick of time, brought 


84 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


his stick down on Robert’s knuckles, and that so sharply that 
the fellow dropped his knife with a yell, and took to his 
heels, only to fall into the hands of two of the watch coming 
from the other end of the lane. You did me a good turn, 
lad, and if ever I get the chance of ranging up alongside of 
you in a fray, you may trust me to return it.” 

He held out his hand to Cyril, and gave a warm grip to the 
hand the latter laid in it. 

“It is a rum start, Mistress,” John went on, as he sat down 
to his meal, “ that two old hands like the Captain and I were 
sailing on, not dreaming of hidden rocks or sand-banks, when 
this lad, who I used to look upon as a young cockerel who 
was rather above his position, should come forward and have 
saved us all from shipwreck.” 

“It is indeed, John,” his mistress said earnestly, “and I 
thank God indeed that He put the thought into the minds of 
Captain Dave and myself to ask him to take up his abode 
with us. It seemed to us then that we were doing a little 
kindness that would cost us nothing, whereas it has turned out 
the saving of us.” 

“Dear, dear!” Nellie, who had been sitting with a frown 
on her pretty face, said pettishly. “What a talk there will 
be about it all, and how Jane Greenwood and Martha Steb- 
bings and the rest of them will laugh at me! They used to 
say they wondered how I could go about with such an ugly 
wretch behind me, and of course I spoke up for him and said 
that he was an honest knave and faithful; and now it turns 
out that he is a villain and a robber. I shall never hear the 
last of him.” 

“You will get over that, Nellie,” her mother said severely. 
“It would be much better if, instead of thinking of such 
trifles, you would consider how sad a thing it is that two lads 
should lose their character, and perhaps their lives, simply for 
their greed of other people’s goods. I could cry when I think 
of it. I know that Robert Ashford has' neither father nor 
mother to grieve about him, for my husband’s father took him 


CAPTURED 


85 


out of sheer charity; but Tom’s parents are living, and it will 
be heart-breaking indeed to them when they hear of their son’s 
misdoings.” 

“I trust that Captain Dave will get him off,” Cyril said. 
“As he is so young he may turn King’s evidence, and I feel 
sure that he did not go willingly into the affair. I have 
noticed many times that he had a frightened look, as if he had 
something on his mind. I believe that he acted under fear 
of the other.” 

As soon as John Wilkes had finished his breakfast he went 
with Captain Dave and Cyril to the Magistrates’ Court at the 
Guildhall. Some other cases were first heard, and then the ap¬ 
prentices, with the two men who had been captured in the 
lane, were brought in and placed in the dock. The men bore 
marks that showed they had been engaged in a severe struggle, 
and that the watch had used their staves with effect. One was 
an elderly man with shaggy grey eyebrows; the other was a 
very powerfully built fellow, who seemed, from his attire, to 
follow the profession of a sailor. Tom Frost was sobbing 
bitterly. One of Robert Ashford’s hands was bandaged up. 
As he was placed in the dock he cast furtive glances round 
with his shifty eyes, and as they fell upon Cyril an expression 
of deadly hate came over his face. The men of the watch who 
had captured them first gave their evidence as to finding them 
in the act of robbery, and testified to the desperate resistance 
they had offered to capture. Captain Dave then entered the 
witness-box, and swore first to the goods that were found on 
them being his property, and then related how, it having come 
to his knowledge that he was being robbed, he had set a watch, 
and had, eight days previously, seen his two apprentices get¬ 
ting along the roof, and how they had come out from the ware¬ 
house door, had opened the outer gate, and had handed over 
some goods they had brought out to persons unknown waiting 
to receive them. 

“Why did you not stop them in their commission of the 
theft?” the Alderman in the Chair asked. 


86 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“ Because, sir, had I done so, the men I considered to be 
the chief criminals, and who had doubtless tempted my ap¬ 
prentices to rob me, would then have made off. Therefore, 
I thought it better to wait until I could lay hands on them 
also, and so got four men of the watch to remain in the house 
at night.” 

Then he went on to relate how, after watching seven nights, 
he had again seen the apprentices make their way along the 
roof, and how they and the receivers of their booty were taken 
by the watch, aided by himself, his foreman, and Master 
Cyril Shenstone, who was dwelling in his house. 

After John Wilkes had given his evidence, Cyril went into 
the box and related how, being engaged by Captain David 
Dowsett to make up his books, he found, upon stock being 
taken, that there was a deficiency to the amount of many 
hundreds of pounds in certain stores, notably such as were 
valuable without being bulky. 

“Is anything known as to the prisoners?” the magistrate 
asked the officer of the city watch in charge of the case. 

“Nothing is known of the two boys, your honour; but the 
men are well known. The elder, who gave the name of Peter 
Johnson, is one Joseph Marner; he keeps a marine shop 
close to the Tower. For a long time he has been suspected 
of being a receiver of stolen goods, but we have never been 
able to lay finger on him before. The other man has, for the 
last year, acted as his assistant in the shop; he answers closely 
to the description of a man, Ephraim Fowler, who has long 
been wanted. This man was a seaman in a brig trading to 
Yarmouth. After an altercation with the captain he stabbed 
him, and then slew the mate who was coming to his assist¬ 
ance; then with threats he compelled the other two men on 
board to let him take the boat. When they were off Bright- 
lingsea he rowed away, and has not been heard of since. If 
you will remand them, before he comes up again I hope to 
find the men who were on board, and see if they identify 
him. We are in possession of Joseph Marner’s shop, and 


CAPTURED 


87 


have found large quantities of goods that we have reason to 
believe are the proceeds of these and other robberies.” 

After the prisoners had left the dock, Captain Dave went 
up to the officer. 

“I believe,” he said, “that the boy has not voluntarily 
taken part in these robberies, but has been led away, or per¬ 
haps obliged by threats to take part in them; he may be able 
to give you some assistance, for maybe these men are not the 
only persons to whom the stolen goods have been sold, and 
he may be able to put you on the track of other receivers.” 

“The matter is out of my hands now,” the officer said, 
“but I will represent what you say in the proper quarter; and 
now you had better come round with me; you may be able to 
pick out some of your property. We only made a seizure of 
the place an hour ago. I had all the men who came in on 
duty this morning to take a look at the prisoners. Fortunately 
two or three of them recognised Marner, and you may guess 
we lost no time in getting a search warrant and going down 
to his place. It is the most important capture we have made 
for some time, and may lead to the discovery of other rob¬ 
beries that have been puzzling us for months past. There is 
a gang known as the Black Gang, but we have never been able 
to lay hands on any of their leaders, and such fellows as have 
been captured have refused to say a word, and have denied 
all knowledge of it. There have been a number of robberies 
of a mysterious kind, none of which have we been able to 
trace, and they have been put down to the same gang. The 
Chief Constable is waiting for me there, and we shall make a 
thorough search of the premises, and it is like enough we 
shall come across some clue of importance. At any rate, if 
we can find some of the articles stolen in the robberies I am 
speaking of, it will be a strong proof that Marner is one of the 
chiefs of the gang, and that may lead to further discoveries.” 

“You had better come with us, John,” Captain Dave said. 
“You know our goods better than I do myself. Will you 
come, Cyril?” 


88 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“ I should be of no use in identifying the goods, sir, and I 
am due in half an hour at one of my shops.” 

The search was an exhaustive one. There was no appear¬ 
ance of an underground cellar, but on some of the boards of 
the shop being taken up, it was found that there was a large 
one extending over the whole house. This contained an 
immense variety of goods. In one corner was a pile of cop¬ 
per bolts that Captain Dave and John were able to claim at 
once, as they bore the brand of the maker from whom they 
obtained their stock. There were boxes of copper and brass 
ship and house fittings, and a very large quantity of rope, 
principally of the sizes in which the stock had been found 
deficient; but to these Captain Dave was unable to swear. In 
addition to these articles the cellar contained a number of 
chests, all of which were found to be filled with miscellaneous 
articles of wearing apparel — rolls of silk, velvet, cloth, and 
other materials — curtains, watches, clocks, ornaments of all 
kinds, and a considerable amount of plate. As among these 
were many articles which answered to the descriptions given 
of goods that had been stolen from country houses, the whole 
were impounded by the Chief Constable, and carried away'in 
carts. The upper part of the house was carefully searched, 
the walls tapped, wainscotting pulled down, and the floors 
carefully examined. Several hiding-places were found, but 
nothing of any importance discovered in them. 

“I should advise you,” the Chief Constable said to Captain 
Dave, “to put in a claim for every article corresponding with 
those you have lost. Of course, if anyone else comes forward 
and also puts in a claim, the matter will have to be gone into, 
and if neither of you can absolutely swear to the things, I 
suppose you will have to settle it somehow between you. If 
no one else claims them, you will get them all without ques¬ 
tion, for you can swear that, to the best of your knowledge 
and belief, they are yours, and bring samples of your own 
goods to show that they exactly correspond with them. I 
have no doubt that a good deal of the readily saleable stuff, 


CAPTURED 


89 


such as ropes, brass sheaves for blocks, and things of that 
sort, will have been sold, but as it is clear that there is a good 
deal of your stuff in the stock found below, I hope your loss 
will not be very great. There is no doubt it has been a splen¬ 
did find for us. It is likely enough that we shall discover 
among those boxes goods that have been obtained from a 
score of robberies in London, and likely enough in the coun¬ 
try. We have arrested three men we found in the place, and 
two women, and may get from some of them information that 
will enable us to lay hands on some of the others concerned 
in these robberies.” 




CHAPTER V 

KIDNAPPED 

T HAT afternoon Captain Dave went down to the Bridewell, 
and had an interview with Tom Frost, in the presence of 
the Master of the prison. 

“Well, Tom, I never expected to have to come to see you 
in a place like this.” 

“I am glad I am here, master,” the boy said earnestly, with 
tears in his eyes. “I don’t mind if they hang me; I would 
rather anything than go on as I have been doing. I knew it 
must come, and whenever I heard anyone walk into the shop 
I made sure it was a constable. I am ready to tell every¬ 
thing, master; I know I deserve whatever I shall get, but that 
won’t hurt me half as much as it has done, having to go on 
living in the house with you, and knowing I was helping to 
rob you all along.” 

“Anything that you say must be taken down,” the officer 
said; “and I can’t promise that it will make any difference 
in your sentence.” 

“I do not care anything about that; I am going to tell the 
truth.” 

“Very well, then, I will take down anything you say. But 
wait a minute.” 

He went to the door of the room and called. 

“Is the Chief Constable in?” he asked a man who came 
up. “If he is, ask him to step here.” 

A minute later the Chief Constable came in. 

90 









KIDNAPPED 


91 


“This prisoner wishes to make a confession, Master 
Holmes. I thought it best that you should be here. You 
can hear what he says then, and it may help you in your in¬ 
quiry. Besides, you may think of questions on points he may 
not mention; he understands that he is speaking entirely of 
his own free will, and that I have given him no promise what¬ 
ever that his so doing will alter his sentence, although no 
doubt it will be taken into consideration.” 

“Quite so,” the constable said. “This is not a case where 
one prisoner would be ordinarily permitted to turn King’s 
evidence against the others, because, as they were caught in 
the act, no such evidence is necessary. We know all about 
how the thing was done, and who did it.” 

“ I want to tell how I first came to rob my master,” the boy 
said. “ I never thought of robbing him. When I came up 
to London, my father said to me, ‘ Whatever you do, Tom, be 
honest. They say there are rogues up in London; don’t you 
have anything to do with them.’ One evening, about a year 
ago I went out with Robert, and we went to a shop near the 
wall at Aldgate. I had never been there before, but Robert 
knew the master, who was the old man that was taken in the 
lane. Robert said the man was a relation of his father’s, and 
had been kind to him. We sat down and talked for a time, 
and then Robert, who was sitting close to me, moved for 
something, and put his hand against my pocket. 

“‘ Hullo! ’ he said; ‘what have you got there? ’ 

“‘ Nothing,’ I said. 

“‘Oh, haven’t you?’ and he put his hand in my pocket, 
and brought out ten guineas. ‘ Hullo! ’ he said; ‘ where did 
you get these? You told me yesterday you had not got a groat. 
Why, you young villain, you must have been robbing the till! ’ 
“ I was so frightened that I could not say anything, except 
that I did not know how they came there and I could swear 
that I had not touched the till. I was too frightened to think 
then, but I have since thought that the guineas were never in 
my pocket at all, but were in Robert’s hand. 


92 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“‘ That won’t do, boy,’ the man said. ‘ It is clear that you 
are a thief. I saw Robert take them from your pocket, and, 
as an honest man, it is my duty to take you to your master and 
tell him what sort of an apprentice he has. You are young, 
and you will get off with a whipping at the pillory, and that 
will teach you that honesty is the best policy.’ 

“So he got his hat and put it on, and took me by the collar 
as if to haul me out into the street. I went down on my knees 
to beg for mercy, and at last he said that he would keep the 
matter quiet if I would swear to do everything that Robert told 
me; and I was so frightened that I swore to do so. 

“ For a bit there wasn’t any stealing, but Robert used to take 
me out over the roof, and we used to go out together and go to 
places where there were two or three men, and they gave us 
wine. Then Robert proposed that we should have a look 
through the warehouse. I did not know what he meant, but 
as we went through he filled his pockets with things and told 
me to take some too. I said I would not. Then he threatened 
to raise the alarm, and said that when Captain Dave came 
down he should say he heard me get up to come down by the 
rope on to the warehouse, and that he had followed me to see 
what I was doing, and had found me in the act of taking 
goods, and that, as he had before caught me with money stolen 
from the till, as a friend of his could testify, he felt that it was 
his duty to summon you at once. I know I ought to have 
refused, and to have let him call you down, but I was too 
frightened. At last I agreed to do what he told me, and ever 
since then we have been robbing you.” 

“What have you done with the money you got for the 
things?” the constable asked. 

“I had a groat sometimes,” the boy said, “but that is all. 
Robert said first that I should have a share, but I said I would 
have nothing to do with it. I did as he ordered me because I 
could not help it. Though I have taken a groat or two some¬ 
times, that is all I have had.” 

“ Do you know anything about how much Robert had? ” 


KIDNAPPED 


93 


“No, sir; I never saw him paid any money. I supposed 
that he had some because he has said sometimes he should set 
up a shop for himself, down at some seaport town, when he 
was out of his apprenticeship; but I have never seen him with 
any money beyond a little silver. I don’t know what he used 
to do when we had given the things to the men that met us in 
the lane. I used always to come straight back to bed, but 
generally he went out with them. I used to fasten the gate 
after him, and he got back over the wall by a rope. Most 
times he didn’t come in till a little before daybreak.” 

“ Were they always the same men that met you in the lane? ” 

“No, sir. The master of the shop was very seldom there. 
The big man has come for the last three or four months, and 
there were two other men. They used to be waiting for us 
together until the big man came, but since then one or other 
of them came with him, except when the master of the shop 
was there himself.” 

“Describe them to me.” 

The boy described them as well as he could. 

“Could you swear to them if you saw them? ” 

“ I think so. Of course, sometimes it was moonlight, and I 
could see their faces well; and besides, the light of the lantern 
often fell upon their faces.” 

The constable nodded. 

“The descriptions answer exactly,” he said to Captain Dave, 
“ to the two men we found in the shop. The place was evi¬ 
dently the headquarters of a gang of thieves.” 

“Please, sir,” the boy said, “would you have me shut up in 
another place? I am afraid of being with the others. They 
have sworn they will kill me if I say a word, and when I get 
back they will ask me who I have seen and what I have said.” 

Captain Dave took the other two men aside. 

“Could you not let the boy come home with me?” he said. 
“I believe his story is a true one. He has been terrified into 
helping that rascal, Robert Ashford. Of course he himself was 
of no good to them, but they were obliged to force him into 


94 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


it, as otherwise he would have found out Robert’s absences 
and might have reported them to me. I will give what bail 
you like, and will undertake to produce him whenever he is 
required.” 

“ I could not do that myself,” the constable said, “but I will 
go round to the Court now with the boy’s confession, and I 
have no doubt the Alderman will let him go. But let me give 
you a word of advice: don’t let him stir out of the house after 
dark. We have no doubt that there is a big gang concerned 
in this robbery, and the others of which we found the booty at 
the receiver’s. They would not know how much this boy 
could tell about them, but if he went back to you they would 
guess that he had peached. If he went out after dark, the 
chances would be against his ever coming back again. No, 
now I think of it, I am sure you had better let him stay where 
he is. The Master will put him apart from the others, and 
make him comfortable. You see, at present we have no clue 
as to the men concerned in the robberies. You may be sure 
that they are watching every move on our part, and if they 
knew that this boy was out, they might take the alarm and 
make off.” 

“Well, if you think so, I will leave him here.” 

“ 1 am sure that it would be the best plan.” 

“You will make him comfortable, Master Holroyd?” 

“Yes; you need not worry about him, Captain Dowsett.” 

They then turned to the boy. 

“You will be moved away from the others, Tom,” Captain 
Dave said, “ and Mr. Holroyd has promised to make you com¬ 
fortable.” 

“Oh, Captain Dave,” the boy burst out, “will you forgive 
me? I don’t mind being punished, but if you knew how 
awfully miserable I have been all this time, knowing that I was 
robbing you while you were so kind to me, I think you would 
forgive me.” 

“I forgive you, Tom,” Captain Dave said, putting his hand 
on the boy’s shoulder. “I hope that this will be a lesson to 


KIDNAPPED 


95 


you, all your life. You see all this has come upon you because 
you were a coward. If you had been a brave lad you would 
have said, ‘ Take me to my master. ’ You might have been 
sure that I would have heard your story as well as theirs, and 
I don’t think I should have decided against you under the 
circumstances. It was only your word against Robert’s; and 
his taking you to this man’s, and finding the money in your 
pocket in so unlikely a way, would certainly have caused me 
to have suspicions. There is nothing so bad as cowardice; it 
is the father of all faults. A coward is certain to be a liar, 
for he will not hesitate to tell any falsehood to shelter him 
from the consequences of a fault. In your case, you see, 
cowardice has made you a thief; and in some cases it might 
drive a man to commit a murder. However, lad, I forgive you 
freely. You have been weak, and your weakness has made you 
a criminal; but it has been against your own will. When all 
this is over, I will see what can be done for you. You may 
live to be an honest man and a good citizen yet.” 

Two days later Cyril was returning home late in the evening 
after being engaged longer than usual in making up a number 
of accounts for one of his customers. He had come through 
Leadenhall Street, and had entered the lane where the capture 
of the thieves had been made, when he heard a footstep behind 
him. He turned half round to see who was following him, 
when he received a tremendous blow on the head which struck 
him senseless to the ground. 

After a time he was dimly conscious that he was being car¬ 
ried along. He was unable to move; there was something in 
his mouth that prevented him from calling out, and his head 
was muffled in a cloak. He felt too weak and confused to 
struggle. A minute later he heard a voice, that sounded below 
him, say,— 

“ Have you got him? ” 

“I have got him all right,” was the answer of the man who 
was carrying him. 

Then he felt that he was being carried down some stairs. 


96 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


Someone took him, and he was thrown roughly down; then 
there was a slight rattling noise, followed by a regular sound. 
He wondered vaguely what it was, but as his senses came back 
it flashed upon him; it was the sound of oars; he was in a 
boat. It was some time before he could think why he should 
be in a boat. He had doubtless been carried off by some of 
the friends of the prisoners’, partly, perhaps, to prevent his 
giving evidence against them, partly from revenge for the part 
he had played in the discovery of the crime. 

In a few minutes the sound of oars ceased, and there was a 
bump as the boat struck against something hard. Then he 
was lifted up, and someone took hold of him from above. 
He was carried a few steps and roughly thrust in somewhere. 
There was a sound of something heavy being thrown down 
above him, and then for a long time he knew nothing more. 

When he became conscious again, he was able, as he lay 
there, to come to a distinct conclusion as to where he was. 
He had been kidnapped, carried off, taken out in a boat to 
some craft anchored in the river, and was now in the hold. 
He felt almost suffocated. The wrap round his head prevented 
his breathing freely, the gag in his mouth pressed on his 
tongue, and gave him severe pain, while his head ached 
acutely from the effects of the blow. 

The first thing to do was, if possible, to free his hands, so 
as to relieve himself from the gag and muffling. An effort or 
two soon showed him that he was but loosely bound. Doubt¬ 
less the man who had attacked him had not washed much time 
in securing his arms, believing that the blow would be suffi¬ 
cient to keep him quiet until he was safe on board ship. It 
was, therefore, without much difficulty that he managed to 
free one of his hands, and it was then an easy task to get rid 
of the rope altogether. The cloak was pulled from his face, 
and, feeling for his knife, he cut the lashings of the gag and 
removed it from his mouth. He lay quiet for a few minutes, 
panting from his exhaustion. Putting up his hand he felt a 
beam about a foot above his body. He was, then, in a hold 



u 


CYRIL SAP UP AND DRANK OFF THE CONTENTS OF THE PANNIKIN,” 


























KIDNAPPED 


97 


already stored with cargo. The next thing was to shift his 
position among the barrels and bales upon which he was lying, 
until he found a comparatively level spot. He was in too 
great pain to think of sleep; his head throbbed fiercely, and 
he suffered from intense thirst. 

From time to time heavy footsteps passed overhead. Pres¬ 
ently he heard a sudden rattling of blocks, and the flapping of 
a sail. Then he noticed that there was a slight change in the 
level of his position, and knew that the craft was under way 
on her voyage down the river. 

It seemed an immense time to him before he saw a faint 
gleam of light, and edging himself along, found himself again 
under the hatchway, through a crack in which the light was 
shining. It was some hours before the hatch was lifted off, 
and he saw two men looking down. 

“Water!” he said. “I am dying of thirst.” 

“ Bring a pannikin of water,” one of the men said, “but first 
give us a hand, and we will have him on deck.” 

Stooping down, they took Cyril by the shoulders and hoisted 
him out. 

“He is a decent-looking young chap,” the speaker went on. 
“ I would have seen to him before, if I had known him to be 
so bad. Those fellows didn’t tell us they had hurt him. Here 
is the water, young fellow. Can you sit up to drink it? ” 

Cyril sat up and drank off the contents of the pannikin. 

“Why, the back of your head is all covered with blood!” 
the man who had before spoken said. “You must have had 
an ugly knock? ” 

“I don’t care so much for that,” Cyril replied. “It’s the 
gag that hurt me. My tongue is so much swollen I can hardly 
speak.” 

“Well, you can stay here on deck if you will give me your 
promise not to hail any craft we may pass. If you won’t do 
that I must put you down under hatches again.” 

“I will promise that willingly,” Cyril said; “the more so 
that I can scarce speak above a whisper.” 


98 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“Mind, if you as much as wave a hand, or do anything to 
bring an eye on us, down you go into the hold again, and when 
you come up next time it will be to go overboard. Now just 
put your head over the rail, and I will pour a few buckets of 
water over it. I agreed to get you out of the way, but I have 
got no grudge against you, and don’t want to do you harm.” 

Getting a bucket with a rope tied to the handle, he dipped 
it into the river, and poured half-a-dozen pailfuls over Cyril’s 
head. The lad felt greatly refreshed, and, sitting down on 
the deck, was able to look round. The craft was a coaster of 
about twenty tons burden. There were three men on deck 
besides the man who had spoken to him, and who was evi¬ 
dently the skipper. Besides these a boy occasionally put up 
his head from a hatchway forward. There was a pile of barrels 
and empty baskets amidship, and the men presently began to 
wash down the decks and to tidy up the ropes and gear lying 
about. The shore on both sides was flat, and Cyril was sur¬ 
prised at the width of the river. Behind them was a small 
town, standing on higher ground. 

“What place is that?” he asked a sailor who passed near 
him. 

“That is Gravesend.” 

A few minutes afterwards the boy again put his head out of 
the hatchway and shouted,— 

“Breakfast!” 

“Can you eat anything, youngster?” the skipper asked 
Cyril. 

“No, thank you, my head aches too much; and my mouth 
is so sore I am sure I could not get anything down.” 

“Well, you had best lie down, then, with your head on that 
coil of rope; I allow you did not sleep much last night.” 

In a few minutes Cyril was sound asleep, and when he awoke 
the sun was setting. 

“You have had a good bout of it, lad,” the skipper said, as 
he raised himself on his elbow and looked round. “ How are 
you feeling now? ” 


KIDNAPPED 


99 


“A great deal better,” Cyril said, as he rose to his feet. 

“Supper will be ready in a few minutes, and if you can 
manage to get a bit down it will do you good.” 

“I will try, anyhow,” Cyril said. “I think that I feel 
hungry.” 

The land was now but a faint line on either hand. A gentle 
breeze was blowing from the south-west, and the craft was 
running along over the smooth water at the rate of three or 
four miles an hour. Cyril wondered where he was being taken 
to, and what was going to be done with him, but determined 
to ask no questions. The skipper was evidently a kind- 
hearted man, although he might be engaged in lawless busi¬ 
ness, but it was as well to wait until he chose to open the 
subject. 

As soon as the boy hailed, the captain led the way to the 
hatchway. They descended a short ladder into the fo’castle, 
which was low, but roomy. Supper consisted of boiled skate 
— a fish Cyril had never tasted before — oaten bread, and beer. 
His mouth was still sore, but he managed to make a hearty 
meal of fish, though he could not manage the hard bread. 
One of the men was engaged at the helm, but the other two 
shared the meal, all being seated on lockers that ran round the 
cabin. The fish were placed on an earthenware dish, each 
man cutting off slices with his jack-knife, and using his bread 
as a platter. Little was said while the meal went on; but 
when they went on deck again, the skipper, having put another 
man at the tiller, while the man released went forward to get 
his supper, said,— 

“Well, I think you are in luck, lad.” 

Cyril opened his eyes in surprise. 

“You don’t think so?” the man went on. “I don’t mean 
-that you are in luck in being knocked about and carried off, 
but that you are not floating down the river at present instead 
of walking the deck here. I can only suppose that they 
thought your body might be picked up, and that it would go 
all the harder with the prisoners, if it were proved that you 


100 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


had been put out of the way. You don’t look like an informer 
either! ” 

“I am not an informer,” Cyril said indignantly. “I found 
that my employer was being robbed, and I aided him to catch 
the thieves. I don’t call that informing. That is when a 
man betrays others engaged in the same work as himself.” 

“Well, well, it makes no difference to me,” the skipper 
said. “ I was engaged by a man, with whom I do business 
sometimes, to take a fellow who had been troublesome out of 
the way, and to see that he did not come back again for some 
time. I bargained that there was to be no foul play; I don’t 
hold with things of that sort. As to carrying down a bale of 
goods sometimes, or taking a few kegs of spirits from a French 
lugger, I see no harm in it; but when it comes to cutting 
throats, I wash my hands of it. I am sorry now I brought 
you off, though maybe if I had refused they would have put a 
knife into you, and chucked you into the river. However, 
now that I have got you I must go through with it. I ain’t a 
man to go back from my word, and what I says I always sticks 
to. Still, I am sorry I had anything to do with the business. 
You look to me a decent young gentleman, though your looks 
and your clothes have not been improved by what you have 
gone through. Well, at any rate, I promise you that no harm 
shall come to you as long as you are in my hands.” 

“And how long is that likely to be, captain?” 

“Ah! that is more than I can tell you. I don’t want to 
do you harm, lad, and more than that, I will prevent other 
people from doing you harm as long as you are on board this 
craft. But more than that I can’t say. It is likely enough I 
shall have trouble in keeping that promise, and I can’t go a 
step farther. There is many a man who would have chucked 
you overboard, and so have got rid of the trouble altogether-, 
and of the risk of its being afterwards proved that he had a 
hand in getting you out of the way.” 

“I feel that, captain,” Cyril said, “and I thank you 
heartily for your kind treatment of me. I promise you that if 


KIDNAPPED 


101 


at any time I am set ashore and find my way back to London, 
I will say no word which can get you into trouble.” 

“There is Tom coming upon deck. You had better turn 
in. You have had a good sleep, but I have no doubt you can 
do with some more, and a night’s rest will set you up. You 
take the left-hand locker. The boy sleeps on the right hand, 
and we have bunks overhead.” 

Cyril was soon soundly asleep, and did not wake when the 
others turned in. He was alone in the cabin when he opened 
his eyes, but the sun was• shining brightly through the open 
hatchway. He sprang up and went on deck. The craft was 
at anchor. No land could be seen to the south, but to the 
north a low shore stretched away three or four miles distant. 
There was scarcely a breath of wind. 

“Well, you have had a good sleep, lad,” the captain said. 
“You had best dip that bucket overboard and have a wash; 
you will feel better after it. Now, boy, slip down and get 
your fire going; we shall be ready for breakfast as soon as it 
is ready for us.” 

Cyril soused his head with the cold water, and felt, as the 
captain had said, all the better for it, for the air in the little 
cabin was close and stuffy, and he had felt hot and feverish 
before his wash. 

“The wind died out, you see,” the captain said, “and we 
had to anchor when tide turned at two o’clock. There is a 
dark line behind us, and as soon as the wind reaches us, we 
will up anchor. The force of the tide is spent.” 

The wind, however, continued very light, and the vessel 
did little more than drift with the tide, and when it turned 
at two o’clock they had to drop anchor again close under some 
high land, on the top of which stood a lofty tower. 

“That is a land-mark,” the captain said. “There are some 
bad sands outside us, and that stands as a mark for vessels 
coming through,” 

Cyril had enjoyed the quiet passage much. The wound at 
the back of his head still smarted, and he had felt disinclined 


102 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


for any exertion. More than once, in spite of the good 
allowance of sleep he had had, he dozed off as he sat on the 
deck with his back against the bulwark, watching the shore as 
they drifted slowly past it, and wondering vaguely how it 
would all end. They had been anchored but half an hour 
when the captain ordered the men to the windlass. 

“There is a breeze coming, lads,” he said; “and even if it 
only lasts for an hour, it will take us round the head and far 
enough into the bay to get into the tide running up the rivers.” 

The breeze, however, when it came, held steadily, and in 
two hours they were off Harwich; but on coming opposite the 
town they turned off up the Orwell, and anchored, after dark, 
at a small village some six miles up the river. 

“ If you will give me your word, lad, that you will not try 
to escape, and will not communicate with anyone who may 
come off from the shore, I will continue to treat you as a 
passenger; but if not, I must fasten you up in the cabin, and 
keep a watch over you.” 

“ I will promise, captain. I should not know where to go 
if I landed. I he^rd you say, ‘There is Harwich steeple,’ 
when we first came in sight of it, but where that is I have no 
idea, nor how far we are from London. As I have not a 
penny in my pocket, I should find it well-nigh impossible to 
make my way to town, which may, for aught I know, be a 
hundred miles away; for, in truth, I know but little of the 
geography of England, having been brought up in France, 
and not having been out of sight of London since I came 
over.” 

Just as he was speaking, the splash of an oar was heard 
close by. 

“Up, men,” the captain said in a low tone to those in the 
fo’castle. “Bring up the cutlasses. Who is that?” he 
called, hailing the boat. 

“Merry men all,” was the reply. 

“All right. Come alongside. You saw our signal, then? ” 

“Ay, ay, we saw it; but there is an officer with a boat-load 


KIDNAPPED 


103 


of sailors ashore from the King’s ship at Harwich. He is 
spending the evening with the revenue captain here, and we 
had to wait until the two men left in charge of the boat went 
up to join their comrades at the tavern. What have you got 
for us? ” 

“ Six boxes and a lot of dunnage, such as cables, chains, 
and some small anchors.” 

“Well, you had better wait for an hour before you take the 
hatches off. You will hear the gig with the sailors row past 
soon. The tide has begun to run down strong, and I expect 
the officer won’t be long before he moves. As soon as he 
has gone we will come out again. We shall take the goods up 
half a mile farther. The revenue man on that beat has been 
paid to keep his eyes shut, and we shall get them all stored 
in a hut, a mile away in the woods, before daybreak. You 
know the landing-place; there will be water enough for us to 
row in there for another two hours.” 

The boat rowed away to the shore, which was not more than 
a hundred yards distant. A little later they heard a stir on 
the strand, then came the sound of oars, and two minutes 
later a boat shot past close to them, and then, bearing away, 
rowed down the river. 

“Now, lads,” the captain said, “get the hatches off. The 
wind is coming more offshore, which is all the better for us, 
but do not make more noise than you can help.” 

The hatches were taken off, and the men proceeded to get 
up a number of barrels and bales, some sail-cloth being thrown 
on the deck to deaden the sound. Lanterns, passed down 
into the hold, gave them light for their operations. 

“This is the lot,” one of the sailors said presently. 

Six large boxes were then passed up and put apart from the 
others. Then followed eight or ten coils of rope, a quantity 
of chain, some kedge anchors, a number of blocks, five rolls 
of canvas, and some heavy bags that, by the sound they made 
when they were laid down, Cyril judged to contain metal 
articles of some sort. Then the other goods were lowered 


104 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


into the hold and the hatches replaced. The work had 
scarcely concluded when the boat again came alongside, this 
time with four men on board. Scarcely a word was spoken 
as the goods were transferred to the boat. 

“You will be going to-morrow?” one of the men in the 
boat asked. 

“ Yes, I shall get up to Ipswich on the top of the tide — 
that is, if I don’t stick fast in this crooked channel. My 
cargo is all either for Ipswich or Aldborough. Now let us 
turn in,” as the boatmen made their way up the river. “We 
must be under way before daylight, or else we shall not save 
the tide down to-morrow evening. I am glad we have got 
that lot safely off. I always feel uncomfortable until we get 
rid of that part of the cargo. If it wasn’t that it paid better 
than all the rest together I would not have anything to do 
with it.” 

Cyril was very glad to lie down on the locker, while the 
men turned into their berths overhead. He had not yet fully 
recovered from the effects of the blow he had received, but 
in spite of the aching of his head he was soon sound asleep. 
It seemed to him that he had scarcely closed his eyes when 
he was roused by the captain’s voice,— 

“Tumble up, lads. The light is beginning to show.” 

Ten minutes later they were under way. The breeze had 
almost died out, and after sailing for some two miles in nearly 
a straight course, the boat was thrown over, two men got into 
it, and, fastening a rope to the ketch’s bow, proceeded to 
tow her along, the captain taking the helm. 

To Cyril’s surprise, they turned off almost at right angles to 
the course they had before been following, and made straight 
for the opposite shore. They approached it so closely that 
Cyril expected that in another moment the craft would take 
ground, when, at a shout from the captain, the men in the 
boat started off parallel with the shore, taking the craft’s head 
round. For the next three-quarters of an hour they pursued 
a serpentine course, the boy standing in the chains and heav- 


KIDNAPPED 


105 


ing the lead continually. At last the captain shouted,— 
“ You can come on board now, lads. We are in the straight 
channel at last.” Twenty minutes later they again dropped 
their anchor opposite a town of considerable size. 

“That is Ipswich, lad,” the captain said. “It is as nasty 
a place to get into as there is in England, unless you have got 
the wind due aft.” 

The work of unloading began at once, and was carried on 
until after dark. 

“That is the last of them,” the captain said, to Cyril’s sat¬ 
isfaction. “We can be off now when the tide turns, and if 
we hadn’t got clear to-night we might have lost hours, for 
there is no getting these people on shore to understand that 
the loss of a tide means the loss of a day, and that it is no 
harder to get up and do your work at one hour than it is at 
another. I shall have a clean up, now, and go ashore. I 
have got your promise, lad, that you won’t try to escape? ” 

Cyril assented. Standing on the deck there, with the river 
bank but twenty yards away, it seemed hard that he should 
not be able to escape. But, as he told himself, he would not 
have been standing there if it had not been for that promise, 
but would have been lying, tightly bound, down in the hold. 

Cyril and the men were asleep when the captain came 
aboard, the boy alone remaining up to fetch him off in the 
boat when he hailed. 

“There is no wind, captain,” Cyril said, as the anchor was 
got up. 

“No, lad, I am glad there is not. We can drop down with 
the tide and the boat towing us, but if there was a head wind 
we might have to stop here till it either dropped or shifted. 
I have been here three weeks at a spell. I got some news 
ashore,” he went on, as he took his place at the helm, while 
the three men rowed the boat ahead. “A man I sometimes 
bring things to told me that he heard there had been an 
attempt to rescue the men concerned in that robbery. I heard, 
before I left London, it was likely that it would be attempted. 


106 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


There were a lot of people concerned in that affair, one way 
and another, and I knew they would move heaven and earth 
to get them out, for if any of them peached there would be 
such a haul as the constables never made in the city before. 
Word was passed to the prisoners to be ready, and as they 
were being taken from the Guildhall to Newgate there was a 
sudden rush made. The constables were not caught napping, 
and there was a tough fight, till the citizens ran out of their 
shops and took part with them, and the men, who were sailors, 
watermen, ’longshore-men, and rascals of all sorts, bolted. 

“ But two of the prisoners were missing. One was, I heard, 
an apprentice who was mixed up in the affair, and no one 
saw him go. They say he must have stooped down and 
wriggled away into the crowd. The other was a man they 
called Black Dick; he struck down two constables, broke 
through the crowd, and got clean away. There is a great hue 
and cry, but so far nothing has been heard of them. They 
will be kept in hiding somewhere till there is a chance of 
getting them through the gates or on board a craft lying in the 
river. Our men made a mess of it, or they would have got 
them all off. I hear that they are all in a fine taking that 
Marner is safely lodged in Newgate with the others taken in 
his house; he knows so much that if he chose to peach he 
could hang a score of men. Black Dick could tell a good 
deal, but he wasn’t in all the secrets, and they say Marner is 
really the head of the band and had a finger in pretty nigh 
every robbery through the country. All those taken in his 
place are also in Newgate, and they say the constables are 
searching the city like ferrets in a rabbit-warren, and that 
several other arrests have been made.” 

“I am not sorry the apprentice got away,” Cyril said. 
“ He is a bad fellow, there is no doubt, and, by the look he 
gave me, he would do me harm if he got a chance, but I sup¬ 
pose that is only natural. As to the other man, he looked to 
me to be a desperate villain, and he also gave me so evil a 
look that, though he was in the dock with a constable on 


KIDNAPPED 


107 


either side of him, I felt horribly uncomfortable, especially 
when I heard what sort of man he was.” 

“What did they say of him? ” 

“They said they believed he was a man named Ephraim 
Fowler, who had murdered the skipper and mate of a coaster 
and then went off in the boat.” 

“Is that the man? Then truly do I regret that he has 
escaped. I knew both John Moore, the master, and George 
Monson, the mate, and many a flagon of beer we have emptied 
together. If I had known the fellow’s whereabouts, I would 
have put the constables on his track. I am heartily sorry 
now, boy, that I had a hand in carrying you off, though maybe 
it is best for you that it has been so. If I hadn’t taken you 
someone else would, and more than likely you would not 
have fared so well as you have done, for some of them 
would have saved themselves all further trouble and risk, by 
chucking you overboard as soon as they were well out of the 
Pool.” 

“Can’t you put me ashore now, captain?” 

“No, boy; I have given my word and taken my money, 
and I am not one to fail to carry out a bargain because I find 
that I have made a bad one. They have trusted me with 
thousands of pounds’ worth of goods, and I have no reason to 
complain of their pay, and am not going to turn my back on 
them now they have got into trouble; besides, though I would 
trust you not to round upon me, I would not trust them. If 

you were to turn up in London they would know that I had 

sold them, and Marner would soon hear of it. There is a way 
of getting messages to a man even in prison. Then you may 
be sure that, if he said nothing else, he would take good care 
to let out that I was the man who used to carry their booty 
away, sometimes to quiet places on the coast, and sometimes 
across to Holland, and the first time I dropped anchor in the 
Pool I should find myself seized and thrown into limbo. 
No, lad; I must carry out my agreement — which is that I 

am not to land you in England, but that I am to take you 


108 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


across to Holland or elsewhere — the elsewhere meaning that 
if you fall overboard by the way there will be no complaints 
as to the breach of the agreement. That is, in fact, what 
they really meant, though they did not actually put it into 
words. They said, ‘ We have a boy who is an informer, and 
has been the means of Marner being seized and his place 
broken up, and there is no saying that a score of us may not 
get a rope round our necks. In consequence, we want him 
carried away. What you do with him is nothing to us so long 
as he don’t set foot in England again.’ ‘ Will Holland suit 
you? I am going across there,’ I said, ‘after touching at Ips¬ 
wich and Aldborough.’ ‘It would be much safer for you and 
everyone else if it happen that he falls over before he gets 
there. However, we will call it Holland.’ ” 

“Then if I were to fall overboard,” Cyril said, with a smile, 
“you would not be breaking your agreement, captain? I 
might fall overboard to-night, you know.” 

“ I would not advise it, lad. You had much better stay 
where you are. I don’t say I mightn’t anchor off Harwich, 
and that if you fell overboard you couldn’t manage to swim 
ashore, but I tell you I would not give twopence for your life 
when you got back to London. It is to the interest of a score 
of men to keep Marner’s mouth shut. They have shown their 
willingness to help him as far as they could, by getting you 
out of the way, and if you got back they would have your life 
the first time you ventured out of doors after dark; they would 
be afraid Marner would suppose they had sold him if you were 
to turn up at his trial, and as like as not he would round on the 
whole lot. Besides, I don’t think it would be over safe for 
me the first time I showed myself in London afterwards, for, 
though I never said that I would do it, I have no doubt they 
reckoned that I should chuck you overboard, and if you were 
to make your appearance in London they would certainly put 
it down that I had sold them. You keep yourself quiet, and 
I will land you in Holland, but not as they would expect, with¬ 
out a penny or a friend; I will put you into good hands, and 


KIDNAPPED 


109 


arrange that you shall be sent back again as soon as the trial 
is over.” 

“Thank you very much, captain. I have no relations in 
London, and no friends, except my employer, Captain David 
Dowsett, and by this time he will have made up his mind that 
I am dead, and it won’t make much difference whether I return 
in four or five days or as many weeks.” 





CHAPTER VI 

A NARROW ESCAPE 

'T'HE Eliza , for this Cyril, after leaving Ipswich, learnt was 
a her name, unloaded the rest of her cargo at Aldborough, 
and then sailed across to Rotterdam. The skipper fulfilled 
his promise by taking Cyril to the house of one of the men 
with whom he did business, and arranging with him to board 
the boy until word came that he could safely return to England. 
The man was a diampnd-cutter, and to him packets of jewellery 
and gems that could not be disposed of in England had often 
been brought over by the captain. The latter had nothing to 
do with the pecuniary arrangements, which were made direct 
by Marner, and he had only to hand over the packets and take 
back sums of money to England. 

“You understand,” the captain said to Cyril, “that I have 
not said a word touching the matter for which you are here. 
I have only told him that it had been thought it was as well 
you should be out of England for a time. Of course, he 
understood that you were wanted for an affair in which you 
had taken part; but it matters not what he thinks. I have 
paid him for a month’s board for you, and here are three 
pounds, which will be enough to pay for your passage back if 
I myself should not return. If you do not hear from me, or 
see the Eliza , within four weeks, there is no reason why you 
should not take passage ba'ck. The trial will be over by that 
time, and as the members of the gang have done their part in 

110 






A NARROW ESCAPE 


111 


preventing you from appearing, I see not why they should have 
further grudge against you.” 

“I cannot thank you too much for your kindness, captain. 
I trust that when I get back you will call at Captain Dowsett’s 
store in Tower Street, so that I may see you and again thank 
you; I know that the Captain himself will welcome you heartily 
when I tell him how kindly you have treated me. He will be 
almost as glad as I shall myself to see you. I suppose you 
could not take him a message or letter from me now?” 

“ I think not, lad. It would never do for him to be able to 
say at the trial that he had learnt you had been kidnapped. 
They might write over here to the Dutch authorities about you. 
There is one thing further. From what I heard when I 
landed yesterday, it seems that there is likely to be war 
between Holland and England.” 

“I heard a talk of it in London,” Cyril said, “but I do not 
rightly understand the cause, nor did I inquire much about 
the matter.” 

“It is something about the colonies, and our taxing their 
goods, but I don’t rightly understand the quarrel, except that 
the Dutch think, now that Blake is gone and our ships for the 
most part laid up, they may be able to take their revenge for 
the lickings we have given them. Should there be war, as you 
say you speak French as well as English, I should think you 
had best make your way to Dunkirk as a young Frenchman, 
and from there you would find no difficulty in crossing to 
England.” 

“ I know Dunkirk well, captain, having indeed lived there 
all my life. I should have no difficulty in travelling through 
Holland as a French boy.” 

“If there is a war,” the captain said, “I shall, of course, 
come here no more; but it may be that you will see me at 
Dunkirk. French brandy sells as well as Dutch Schiedam, 
and if I cannot get the one I may perhaps get the other; and 
there is less danger in coming to Dunkirk and making across 
to Harwich than there is in landing from Calais or Nantes on 




112 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


the south coast, where the revenue men are much more on the 
alert than they are at Harwich.” 

“Are you not afraid of getting your boat captured? You 
said it was your own.” 

“ Not much, lad. I bring over a regular cargo, and the kegs 
are stowed away under the floor of the cabin, and I run them 
at Pin-mill — that is the place we anchored the night before 
we got to Ipswich. I have been overhauled a good many 
times, but the cargo always looks right, and after searching it 
for a bit, they conclude it is all regular. You see, I don’t 
bring over a great quantity — fifteen or twenty kegs is as much 
as I can stow away — and it is a long way safer being content 
with a small profit than trying to make a big one.” 

Cyril parted with regret from the captain, whose departure 
had been hastened by a report that war might be declared at 
any moment, in which case the Eliza might have been detained 
for a considerable time. He had, therefore, been working 
almost night and day to get in his cargo, and Cyril had 
remained on board until the last moment. He had seen the 
diamond dealer but once, and hoped that he should not meet 
him often, for he felt certain that awkward questions would be 
asked him. This man was in the habit of having dealings 
with Marner, and had doubtless understood from the captain 
that he was in some way connected with his gang; and were 
he to find out the truth he would view him with the reverse of 
a friendly eye. He had told him that he was to take his meals 
with his clerk, and Cyril hoped, therefore, that he should 
seldom see him. 

He wandered about the wharf until it became dark. Then 
he went in and took supper with the clerk. As the latter 
spoke Dutch only, there was no possibility of conversation. 
Cyril was thinking of going up to his bed when there was a ring 
at the bell. The clerk went to answer it, leaving the door 
open as he went out, and Cyril heard a voice ask, in English, 
if Herr Schweindorf was in. The clerk said something in 
Dutch. 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


113 


“The fool does not understand English, Robert,” the man 
said. 

“Tell him,” he said, in a louder voice, to the clerk, “that 
two persons from England — England, you understand — who 
have only just arrived, want to see him on particular business. 
There, don’t be blocking up the door; just go and tell your 
master what I told you.” 

He pushed his way into the passage, and the clerk, seeing 
that there was nothing else to do, went upstairs. 

A minute later he came down again, and made a sign for 
them to follow him. As they went up Cyril stole out and 
looked after them. The fact that they had come from Eng¬ 
land, and that one of them was named Robert, and that they 
had business with this man, who was in connection with 
Marner, had excited his suspicions, but he felt a shiver of fear 
run through him as he recognised the figures of Robert Ashford 
and the man who was called Black Dick. He remembered the 
expression of hatred with which they had regarded him in the 
Court, and felt that his danger would be great indeed did they 
hear that he was in Rotterdam. A moment’s thought con¬ 
vinced him that they would almost certainly learn this at once 
from his host. The latter would naturally mention that the 
captain had left a lad in his charge who was, as he believed, 
connected with them. They would denounce him as an 
enemy instead of a friend. The diamond merchant would 
expel him from his house, terrified at the thought that he 
possessed information as to his dealings with this band in 
England; and once beyond the door he would, in this strange 
town, be at the mercy of his enemies. Cyril’s first impulse 
was to run back into the room, seize his cap, and fly. He 
waited, however, until the clerk came down again; then he 
put his cap carelessly on his head. 

“I am going for a walk,” he said, waving his hand vaguely. 

The man nodded, went with him to the door, and Cyril 
heard him put up the bar after he had gone out. He walked 
quietly away, for there was no fear of immediate pursuit. 

H 


114 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


Black Dick had probably brought over some more jewels to 
dispose of, and that business would be transacted, before there 
would be any talk of other matters. It might be a quarter of 
an hour before they heard that he was an inmate of the house; 
then, when they went downstairs with the dealer, they would 
hear that he had gone out for a walk and would await his 
return, so that he had two or three hours at least before there 
would be any search. 

It was early yet. Some of the boats might be discharging 
by torchlight. At any rate, he might hear of a ship starting in 
the morning. He went down to the wharf. There was plenty 
of bustle here; boats were landing fish, and larger craft were 
discharging or taking in cargo; but his inability to speak 
Dutch prevented his asking questions. He crossed to the 
other side of the road. The houses here were principally 
stores or drinking taverns. In the window of one was stuck 
up, “English and French Spoken Here.” He went inside, 
walked up to the bar, and called for a glass of beer in English. 

“You speak English, landlord?” he asked, as the mug was 
placed before him. \ 

The latter nodded. 

“ I want to take passage either to England or to France,” he 
said. “ I came out here but a few days ago, and I hear that 
there is going to be trouble between the two countries. It 
will therefore be of no use my going on to Amsterdam. I 
wish to get back again, for I am told that if I delay I may be 
too late. I cannot speak Dutch, and therefore cannot inquire 
if any boat will be sailing in the morning for England or 
Dunkirk. I have acquaintances in Dunkirk, and speak French, 
so it makes no difference to me whether I go there or to 
England.” 

“My boy speaks French,” the landlord said, “and if you 
like he can go along the port with you. Of course, you will 
give him something for his trouble?” 

“Willingly,” Cyril said, “and be much obliged to you into 
the bargain.” 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


115 


The landlord left the bar and returned in a minute with a 
boy twelve years old. 

“He does not speak French very well,” he said, “but I 
dare say it will be enough for your purpose. I have told him 
that you want to take ship to England, or that, if you cannot 
find one, to Dunkirk. If that will not do, Ostend might suit 
you. They speak French there, and there are boats always 
going between there and England.” 

“That would do; though I should prefer the other.” 

“There would be no difficulty at any other time in getting 
a boat for England, but I don’t know whether you will do so 
now. They have been clearing off for some days, and I doubt 
if you will find an English ship in port now, though of course 
there may be those who have been delayed for their cargo.” 

Cyril went out with the boy, and after making many inquiries 
learnt that there was but one English vessel still in port. 
However, Cyril told his guide that he would prefer one for 
Dunkirk if they could find one, for if war were declared before 
the boat sailed, she might be detained. After some search 
they found a coasting scow that would sail in the morning. 

“They will touch at two or three places,” the boy said to 
Cyril, after a talk with the captain; “but if you are not in a 
hurry, he will take you and land you at Dunkirk for a pound 
— that is, if he finds food; if you find food he will take you 
for eight shillings. He will start at daybreak.” 

“Tell him that I agree to his price. I don’t want the 
trouble of getting food. As he will be going so early, I will 
come on board at once. I will get my bundle, and will be back 
in half an hour.” 

He went with the boy to one of the sailors’ shops near, 
bought a rough coat and a thick blanket, had them wrapped 
up into a parcel, and then, after paying the boy, went on board. 

As he expected, he found there were no beds or accommo¬ 
dation for passengers, so he stretched himself on a locker in 
the cabin, covered himself with his blanket, and put the coat 
under his head for a pillow. His real reason for choosing 


116 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


this craft in preference to the English ship was that he thought 
it probable that, when he did not return to the house, it would 
at once be suspected that he had recognised the visitors, and 
was not going to return at all. In that case, they might 
suspect that he would try to take passage to England, and 
would, the first thing in the morning, make a search for him 
on board any English vessels that might be in the port. 

It would be easy then for them to get him ashore, for the 
diamond merchant might accuse him of theft, and so get him 
handed over to him. Rather than run that risk,- he would 
have started on foot had he not been able to find a native craft 
sailing early in the morning. Failing Dunkirk and Ostend, he 
would have taken a passage to any other Dutch port, and run 
his chance of getting a ship from there. The great point was 
to get away from Rotterdam. 

The four men forming the crew of the scow returned late,, 
and by their loud talk Cyril, who kept his eyes closed, judged 
that they were in liquor. In a short time they climbed up 
into their berths, and all was quiet. At daybreak they were 
called up by the captain. Cyril lay quiet until, by the rippling 
of the water against the side, he knew that the craft was under 
way. He waited a few minutes, and then went up on deck. 
The scow, clumsy as she looked, was running along fast before 
a brisk wind, and in an hour Rotterdam lay far behind them. 

The voyage was a pleasant one. They touched at Dor¬ 
drecht, at Steenbergen on the mainland, and Flushing, stay¬ 
ing a few hours in each place to take in or discharge cargo. 
After this, they made out from the Islands, and ran along the 
coast, putting into Ostend and Nieuport, and, four days after 
starting, entered the port of Dunkirk. 

Cyril did not go ashore at any of the places at which they 
stopped. It was possible that war might have been declared 
with England, and as it might be noticed that he was a for¬ 
eigner he would in that case be questioned and arrested. As 
soon, therefore, as they neared a quay, he went down to the 
cabin and slept until they got under way again. The food 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


117 


was rough, but wholesome; it consisted entirely of fish and 
black bread; but the sea air gave him a good appetite, and 
he was in high spirits at the thought that he had escaped from 
danger and was on his way back again. At Dunkirk he was 
under the French flag, and half an hour after landing had 
engaged a passage to London on a brig that was to sail on the 
following day. The voyage was a stormy one, and he rejoiced 
in the possession of his great-coat, which he had only bought 
in order that he might have a packet to bring on board the 
scow, and so avoid exciting any suspicion or question as to 
his being entirely unprovided with luggage. 

It was three days before the brig dropped anchor in the 
Pool. As soon as she did so, Cyril hailed a waterman, and 
spent almost his last remaining coin in being taken to shore. 
He was glad that it was late in the afternoon and so dark that 
his attire would not be noticed. His clothes had suffered 
considerably from his capture and confinement on board the 
Eliza , and his great-coat was of a rough appearance that was 
very much out of character in the streets of London. He had, 
however, but a short distance to traverse before he reached 
the door of the house. He rang at the bell, and the door was 
opened by John Wilkes. 

“What is it?” the latter asked. “The shop is shut for the 
night, and I ain’t going to open for anyone. At half-past 
seven in the morning you can get what you want, but not 
before.” 

“Don’t you know me, John?” Cyril laughed. 

The old sailor stepped back as if struck with a blow. 

“Eh, what?” he exclaimed. “Is it you, Cyril? Why, we 
had all thought you dead! I did not know you in this dim 
light and in that big coat you have got on. Come upstairs, 
master. Captain Dave and the ladies will be glad indeed to 
see you. They have been mourning for you sadly, I can tell 
you.” 

Cyril took off his wrap and hung it on a peg, and then fol¬ 
lowed John upstairs. 


118 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“There, Captain Dave,” the sailor said, as he opened the 
door of the sitting-room. “There is a sight for sore eyes! — 
a sight you never thought you would look on again.” 

For a moment Captain Dave, his wife, and daughter stared- 
at Cyril as if scarce believing their eyes. Then the Captain 
sprang to his feet. 

“It’s the lad, sure enough. Why, Cyril,” he went on, seiz¬ 
ing him by the hand, and shaking it violently, “ we had never 
thought to see you alive again; we made sure that those pirates 
had knocked you on the head, and that you were food for fishes 
by this time. There has been no comforting my good wife; 
and as to Nellie, if it had been a brother she had lost, she 
could not have taken it more hardly.” 

“ They did knock me on the head, and very hard too, Cap¬ 
tain Dave. If my skull hadn’t been quite so thick, I should, 
as you say, have been food for fishes before now, for that is 
what they meant me for, and there is no thanks to them that 
I am here at present. I am sorry that you have all been made 
so uncomfortable about me.” 

“We should have b6en an ungrateful lot indeed if we had 
not, considering that in the first place you saved us from being 
ruined by those pirates, and that it was, as we thought, owing 
to the services you had done us that you had come to your 
end.” 

“But where have you been, Master Cyril?” Nellie broke 
in. “What has happened to you? We have been picturing 
all sorts of horrors, mother and I. That evil had befallen 
you we were sure, for we knew that you would not go away of 
a sudden, in this fashion, without so much as saying good¬ 
bye. We feared all the more when, two days afterwards, the 
wretches were so bold as to attack the constables, and to 
rescue Robert Ashford and another from their hands. Men 
who would do this in broad daylight would surely hesitate at 
nothing.” 

“ Let him eat his supper without asking further questions, 
Nellie,” her father said. “It is ill asking one with victuals 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


119 


before him to begin a tale that may, for aught I know, last an 
hour. Let him have his food, lass, and then I will light my 
pipe, and John Wilkes shall light his here instead of going 
out for it, and we will have the yarn in peace and comfort. 
It spoils a good story to hurry it through. Cyril is here, alive 
and well; let that content you for a few minutes.” 

“If I must, I must,” Nellie said, with a little pout. “But 
you should remember, father, that, while you have been all 
your life having adventures of some sort, this is the very first 
that I have had; for though Cyril is the one to whom it befell, 
it is all a parcel with the robbery of the house and the capture 
of the thieves.” 

“When does the trial come off, Captain Dave?” 

“It came off yesterday. Marner is to be hung at the end 
of the week. He declared that he was but in the lane by 
accident when two lads opened the gate. He and the man 
with him, seeing that they were laden with goods, would have 
seized them, when they themselves were attacked and beaten 
down. But this ingenuity did not save him. Tom Frost 
had been admitted as King’s evidence, and testified that 
Marner had been several times at the gate with the fellow that 
escaped, to receive the stolen goods. Moreover, there were 
many articles among those found at his place that I was able 
to swear to, besides the proceeds of over a score of burglaries. 
The two men taken in his house will have fifteen years in 
gaol. The women got off scot-free; there was no proof that 
they had taken part in the robberies, though there is little 
doubt they knew all about them.” 

“But how did they prove the men were concerned? ” 

“ They got all the people whose property had been found 
there, and four of these, on seeing the men in the yard at 
Newgate, were able to swear to them as having been among 
those who came into their rooms and frightened them well- 
nigh to death. It was just a question whether they should be 
hung or not, and there was some wonder that the Judge let 
them escape the gallows.” 


120 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“And what has become of Tom? ” 

“They kept Tom in the prison till last night. I saw him 
yesterday, and I am sure the boy is mighty sorry for having 
been concerned in the matter, being, as I truly believe, ter¬ 
rified into it. I had written down to an old friend of mine 
who has set up in the same way as myself at Plymouth. Of 
course I told him all the circumstances, but assured him, that 
according to my belief, the boy was not so much to blame, 
and that I was sure the lesson he had had, would last him for 
life; so I asked him to give Tom another chance, and if he 
did so, to keep the knowledge of this affair from everyone. 

I got his answer yesterday morning, telling me to send him 
down to him; he would give him a fair trial, and if he wasn’t 
altogether satisfied with him, would then get him a berth as 
ship’s boy. So, last night after dark, he was taken down by 
John Wilkes, and put on board a coaster bound for Plymouth. 
I would have taken him back here, but after your disappear¬ 
ance I feared that his life would not be safe; for although they 
had plenty of other cases they could have proved against 
Marner, Tom’s evidence brought this business home to him.” 

Captain Dave would not allow Cyril to begin his story until 
the table had been cleared and he and John Wilkes had lighted 
their pipes. Then Cyril told his adventure, the earlier part 
of which elicited many exclamations of pity from Dame Dow- 
sett and Mistress Nellie, and some angry ejaculations from 
the Captain when he heard that Black Dick and Robert Ash¬ 
ford had got safely off to Holland. 

“By St. Anthony, lad,” he broke out, when the story was 
finished, “you had a narrow escape from those villains at Rot¬ 
terdam. Had it chanced that you were out at the time they 
came, I would not have given a groat for your life. By all 
accounts, that fellow Black Dick is a desperate villain. They 
say that they had got hold of evidence enough against him to 
hang a dozen men, and it seems that there is little doubt that 
he was concerned in several cases, where, not content with 
robbing, the villain had murdered the inmates of lonely houses 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


121 


round London. He had good cause for hating you. It was 
through you that he had been captured, and had lost his share 
in all that plunder at Marner’s. Well, I trust the villain will 
never venture to show his face in London again; but there is 
never any saying. I should like to meet that captain who 
behaved so well to you, and I will meet him too, and shake 
him by the hand and tell him that any gear he may want for 
that ketch of his, he is free to come in here to help himself. 
There is another thing to be thought of. I must go round in 
the morning to the Guildhall and notify the authorities that 
you have come back. There has been a great hue and cry 
for you. They have searched the thieves’ dens of London 
from attic to cellar; there have been boats out looking for 
your body; and on the day after you were missing they over¬ 
hauled all the ships in the port. Of course the search has 
died out now, but I must go and tell them, and you will have 
to give them the story of the affair.” 

“I sha’n’t say a word that will give them a clue that will 
help them to lay hands on the captain. He saved my life, 
and no one could have been kinder than he was. I would 
rather go away for a time altogether, for I don’t see how I am 
to tell the story without injuring him.” 

“No; it is awkward, lad. I see that, even if you would 
not give them the name of the craft, they might find out what 
vessels went into Ipswich on that morning, and also the names 
of those that sailed from Rotterdam on the day she left.” 

“ It seems to me, Captain, that the only way will be for me 
to say the exact truth, namely, that I gave my word to the 
captain that I would say naught of the matter. I could tell 
how I was struck down, and how I did not recover conscious¬ 
ness until I found myself in a boat, and was lifted on board a 
vessel and put down into the hold, and was there kept until 
morning. I could say that when I was let out I found we 
were far down the river, that the captain expressed great regret 
when he found that I had been hurt so badly, that he did 
everything in his power for me, and that after I had been some 


122 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


days on board the ship he offered to land me in Holland, and 
to give me money to pay my fare back here if I would give 
him my word of honour not to divulge his name or the name 
of the ship, or that of the port at which he landed me. Of 
course, they can imprison me for a time if I refuse to tell, 
but I would rather stay in gaol for a year than say aught that 
might set them upon the track of Captain Madden. It was 
not until the day he left me in Holland that I knew his name, 
for of course the men always called him captain, and so did I.” 

“That is the only way I can see out of it, lad. I don’t 
think they will imprison you after the service you have done 
in enabling them to break-up this gang, bring the head of it 
to justice, and recover a large amount of property.” 

So indeed, on their going to the Guildhall next morning, it 
turned out. The sitting Alderman threatened Cyril with com¬ 
mittal to prison unless he gave a full account of all that had 
happened to him, but Captain Dowsett spoke up for him, and 
said boldly that instead of punishment he deserved honour for 
the great service he had done to justice, and that, moreover, 
if he were punished'for refusing to keep the promise of 
secrecy he had made, there was little chance in the future of 
desperate men sparing the lives of those who fell into their 
hands. They would assuredly murder them in self-defence if 
they knew that the law would force them to break any promise 
of silence they might have made. The Magistrate, after a 
consultation with the Chief Constable, finally came round to 
this view, and permitted Cyril to leave the Court, after prais¬ 
ing him warmly for the vigilance he had shown in the protec¬ 
tion of his employer’s interests. He regretted that he had 
not been able to furnish them with the name of a man who 
had certainly been, to some extent, an accomplice of those 
who had assaulted him, but this was not, however, so much to 
be regretted, since the man had done all in his power to atone 
for his actions. 

“There is no further information you can give us, Master 
Cyril?” 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


123 


“Only this, your worship: that on the day before I left 
Holland, I caught sight of the two persons who had escaped 
from the constables. They had just landed.” 

“I am sorry to hear it,” the Alderman said. “I had hoped 
that they were still in hiding somewhere in the City, and that 
the constables might yet be able to lay hands on them. How¬ 
ever, I expect they will be back again erelong. Your ill- 
doer is sure to return here sooner or later, either with the hope 
of further gain, or because he cannot keep away from his old 
haunts and companions. If they fall into the hands of the 
City Constables, I will warrant they won’t escape again.” 

He nodded to Cyril, who understood that his business was 
over and left the Court with Captain Dave. 

“ I am not so anxious as the Alderman seemed to be that 
Black Dick and Robert Ashford should return to London, 
Captain Dave.” 

“No; I can understand that, Cyril. And even now that 
you know they are abroad, it would be well to take every pre¬ 
caution, for the others whose business has been sorely inter¬ 
rupted by the capture of that villain Marner may again try to 
do you harm. No doubt other receivers will fill his place in 
time, but the loss of a ready market must incommode them 
much. Plate they can melt down themselves, and I reckon 
they would have but little difficulty in finding knaves ready to 
purchase the products of the melting-pot; but it is only a man 
with premises specially prepared for it who will buy goods of 
all kinds, however bulky, without asking questions about them. ” 

Cyril was now in high favour with Mistress Nellie, and 
whenever he was not engaged when she went out he was in¬ 
vited to escort her. 

One day he went with her to hear a famous preacher hold 
forth at St. Paul’s. Only a portion of the cathedral was used 
for religious services; the rest was utilised as a sort of public 
promenade, and here people of all classes met — gallants of 
the Court, citizens, their wives and daughters, idlers and 
loungers, thieves and mendicants. 


124 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


As Nellie walked forward to join the throng gathered near 
the pulpit, Cyril noticed a young man in a Court suit, stand¬ 
ing among a group who were talking and laughing much louder 
than was seemly, take off his plumed hat, and make a deep 
bow, to which she replied by a slight inclination of the head, 
and passed on with somewhat heightened colour. 

Cyril waited until the service was over, when, as he left the 
cathedral with her, he asked,— 

“Who was that rufifler in gay clothes, who bowed so deeply 
to you, Mistress Nellie? — that is, if there is no indiscretion 
in my asking.’* 

“I met him in a throng while you were away,” she said, 
with an attempt at carelessness which he at once detected. 
“There was a great press, and I well-nigh fainted, but he 
very courteously came to my assistance, and brought me safely 
out of the crowd.” 

“And doubtless you have seen him since, Mistress?” 

Nellie tossed her head. 

“I don’t see what right you have to question me, Master 
Cyril? ” 

“No right at all,” Cyril replied good-temperedly, “save 
that I am an inmate of your father’s house, and have received 
great kindness from him, and I doubt if he would be pleased 
if he knew that you bowed to a person unknown to him and 
unknown, I presume, to yourself, save that he has rendered 
you a passing service.” 

“He is a gentleman of the Court, I would have you know,” 
she said angrily. 

“ I do not know that that is any great recommendation if 
the tales one hears about the Court are true,” Cyril replied 
calmly. “ I cannot say I admire either his companions or his 
manners, and if he is a gentleman he should know that if he 
wishes to speak to an honest citizen’s daughter it were only 
right that he should first address himself to her father.” 

“Heigh ho!” Nellie exclaimed, with her face flushed with 
indignation. “Who made you my censor, I should like to 


“FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE, SIR, DO NOT CAUSE TROUBLE.” 



















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\ 





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A NARROW ESCAPE 


125 


know? I will thank you to attend to your own affairs, and to 
leave mine alone.” 

“The affairs of Captain Dave’s daughter are mine so long 
as I am abroad with her,” Cyril said firmly. “I am sorry to 
displease you, but I am only doing what I feel to be my duty. 
Methinks that, were John Wilkes here in charge of you, he 
would say the same, only probably he would express his opin¬ 
ion as to yonder gallant more strongly than I do; ” he nodded 
in the direction of the man, who had followed them out of the 
cathedral, and was now walking on the other side of the street 
and evidently trying to attract Nellie’s attention. 

Nellie bit her lips. She was about to answer him passion¬ 
ately, but restrained herself with a great effort. 

“You are mistaken in the gentleman, Cyril,” she said, after 
a pause; “he is of a good family, and heir to a fine estate.” 

“Oh, he has told you as much as that, has he? Well, Mis¬ 
tress Nellie, it may be as he says, but surely it is for your father 
to inquire into that, when the gentleman comes forward in 
due course and presents himself as a suitor. Fine feathers do 
not always make fine birds, and a man may ruffle it at King 
Charles’s Court without ten guineas to shake in his purse.” 

At this moment the young man crossed the street, and, bow¬ 
ing deeply to Nellie, was about to address her when Cyril said 
gravely, — 

“ Sir, I am not acquainted with your name, nor do I know 
more about you save that you are a stranger to this lady’s 
family. That being so, and as she is at present under my 
escort, I must ask you to abstain from addressing her.” 

“You insolent young varlet!” the man said furiously. 
“ Had I a cane instead of a sword I would chastise you for 
your insolence.” 

“That is as it may be,” Cyril said quietly. “That sort of 
thing may do down at Whitehall, but if you attempt to make 
trouble here in Cheapside you will very speedily find yourself 
in the hands of the watch.” 

“For Heaven’s sake, sir,” Nellie said anxiously, as several 


126 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


passers-by paused to see what was the matter, “ do not cause 
trouble. For my sake, if not for your own, pray leave me.” 

“I obey you, Mistress,” the man said again, lifting his hat 
and bowing deeply. “I regret that the officiousness of this 
blundering varlet should have mistaken my intentions, which 
were but to salute you courteously.” 

So saying, he replaced his hat, and, with a threatening 
scowl at Cyril, pushed his way roughly through those standing 
round, and walked rapidly away. 

Nellie was very pale, and trembled from head to foot. 

“Take me home, Cyril,” she murmured. 

He offered her his arm, and he made his way along the 
street, while his face flushed with anger at some jeering 
remarks he heard from one or two of those who looked on at 
the scene. It was not long before Nellie’s anger gained the 
upper hand of her fears. 

“ A pretty position you have placed me in, with your inter¬ 
ference ! ” 

“You mean, I suppose, Mistress Nellie, a pretty position 
that man placed you fn, by his insolence. What would Cap¬ 
tain Dave say if he heard that his daughter had been accosted 
by a Court gallant in the streets? ” 

“Are you going to tell him?” she asked, removing her 
hand sharply from his arm. 

“ I have no doubt I ought to do so, and if you will take my 
advice you will tell him yourself as soon as you reach home, 
for it may be that among those standing round was someone 
who is acquainted with both you and your father; and you 
know as well as I do what Captain Dave would say if it came 
to his ears in such fashion.” 

Nellie walked for some time in silence. Her anger rose 
still higher against Cyril at the position in which his inter¬ 
ference had placed her, but she could not help seeing that his 
advice was sound. She had indeed met this man several 
times, and had listened without chiding to his protestations of 
admiration and love. Nellie was ambitious. She had been 


A NARROW ESCAPE 


127 


allowed to have her own way by her mother, whose sole com¬ 
panion she had been during her father’s absence at sea. She 
knew that she was remarkably pretty, and saw no reason why 
she, like many another citizen’s daughter, should not make a 
good match. She had readily given the man her promise to 
say nothing at home until he gave her leave to do so, and she 
had been weak enough to take all that he said for gospel. 
Now she felt that, at any rate, she must smooth matters over 
and put it so that as few questions as possible should be asked. 
After a long pause, then, she said,— 

“Perhaps you are right, Cyril. I will myself tell my father 
and mother. I can assure you that I had no idea I should 
meet him to-day.” 

This Cyril could readily believe, for certainly she would not 
have asked him to accompany her if she had known. How¬ 
ever, he only replied gravely,— 

“I am glad to hear that you will tell them, Mistress Nellie, 
and trust that you will take them entirely into your confidence.” 

This Nellie had no idea of doing; but she said no further 
word until they reached home. 




CHAPTER VII 

SAVED FROM A VILLAIN 

I FIND that I have to give you thanks for yet another 
service, Cyril,” Captain Dave said heartily, when they 
met the next morning. “Nellie tells me a young Court 
gallant had the insolence to try to address her yesterday in 
Cheapside, on her way back from St. Paul’s, that you pre¬ 
vented his doing so, and that there was quite a scene in the 
street. If I knew who he was I would break his sconce for 
him, were he Rochester himself. A pretty pass things have 
come to, when a citizen’s daughter cannot walk home from St. 
Paul’s without one of these impudent vagabonds of the Court 
venturing to address her! Know you who he was? ” 

“No; I have never seen the fellow before, Captain Dave. 
I do know many of the courtiers by sight, having, when we 
first came over, often gone down to Whitehall with my father 
when he was seeking to obtain an audience with the King; 
but this man’s face is altogether strange to me.” 

“ Well, well! I will take care that Nellie shall not go abroad 
again except under her mother’s escort or mine. I know, 
Cyril, that she would be as safe under your charge as in ours, 
but it is better that she should have the presence of an older 
person. It is not that I doubt your courage or your address, 
lad, but a ruffling gallant of this sort would know naught of 
you, save that you are young, and besides, did you interfere, 
there might be a scene that would do serious harm to Nellie’s 
reputation.” 


128 



SAVED FROM A VILLAIN 


129 


“I agree with you thoroughly, Captain Dave,” Cyril said 
warmly. “ It will be far better that you or Mrs. Dowsett 
should be by her side as long as there is any fear of further 
annoyance from this fellow. I should ask nothing better than 
to try a bout with him myself, for I have been right well 
taught how to use my sword; but, as you say, a brawl in the 
street is of all things to be avoided.” 

Three or four weeks passed quietly. Nellie seldom went 
abroad; when she did so her mother always accompanied her 
if it were in the daytime, and her father whenever she went to 
the house of any friend after dusk. 

Cyril one day caught sight of the gallant in Tower Street, 
and although he was on his way to one of his customers, he at 
once determined to break his appointment and to find out who 
the fellow was. The man sauntered about looking into the 
shops for full half an hour, but it was apparent to Cyril that he 
paid little attention to their contents, and was really waiting 
for someone. When the clock struck three he started, 
stamped his foot angrily on the ground, and, walking away 
rapidly to the stairs of London Bridge, took a seat in a boat, 
and was rowed up the river. 

Cyril waited until he had gone a short distance, and then 
hailed a wherry rowing two oars. 

“You see that boat over there?” he said. “I don’t wish 
to overtake it at present. Keep a hundred yards or so behind 
it, but row inshore so that it shall not seem that you are 
following them.” 

The men obeyed his instructions until they had passed the 
Temple; then, as the other boat still kept in the middle of the 
stream, Cyril had no doubt that it would continue its course 
to Westminster. 

“Now stretch to your oars,” he said to the watermen. “I 
want to get to Westminster before the other boat, and to be 
well away from the stairs before it comes up.” 

The rest of the journey was performed at much greater 
speed, and Cyril alighted at Westminster while the other boat 


130 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


was some three or four hundred yards behind. Paying the 
watermen, he went up the stairs, walked away fifty or sixty 
yards, and waited until he saw the man -he was following 
appear. The latter walked quietly up towards Whitehall and 
entered a tavern frequented by young bloods of the Court. 
Cyril pressed his hat down over his eyes. His dress was not 
the same as that in which he had escorted Nellie to the cathe¬ 
dral, and he had but small fear of being recognised. 

When he entered he sat down at a vacant table, and, having 
ordered a stoup of wine, looked round. The man had joined 
a knot of young fellows like himself, seated at a table. They 
were dissipated-looking blades, and were talking loudly and 
boisterously. 

“Well, Harvey, how goes it? Is the lovely maiden we saw 
when we were with you at St. Paul’s ready to drop into your 
arms? ” 

“Things are going on all right,” Harvey said, with an air of 
consciousness; “ but she is watched by two griffins, her father 
and mother. ’Iris fortunate they do not know me by sight, 
and I have thus chances of slipping a note in her hand when 
I pass her. I think it will not be long before you will have to 
congratulate me.” 

“She is an heiress and only daughter, is she not, honest 
John?” another asked. 

“ She is an only child, and her father bears the reputation of 
doing a good business; but as to what I shall finally do, I shall 
not yet determine. As to that, I shall be guided by circum¬ 
stances.” 

“Of course, of course,” the one who had first spoken said. 

Cyril had gained the information he required. The man’s 
name was John Harvey, and Nellie was keeping up a clandes¬ 
tine correspondence with him. Cyril felt that were he to 
listen longer he could not restrain his indignation, and, with¬ 
out touching the wine he had paid for, he hastily left the tavern. 

As he walked towards the city, he was unable to decide 
what he had better do. Were he to inform Captain Dave of 


SAVED FROM A VILLAIN 


131 


what he had heard there would be a terrible scene, and there 
was no saying what might happen. Still, Nellie must be saved 
from falling into the hands of this fellow, and if he abstained 
from telling her father he must himself take steps to prevent 
the possibility of such a thing taking place. The more he 
thought of it the more he felt of the heavy responsibility it 
would be. Anxious as he was to save Nellie from the anger 
of her father, it was of far greater consequence to save her 
from the consequences of her own folly. At last he resolved 
to take John Wilkes into his counsels. John was devoted to 
his master, and even if his advice were not of much value, his 
aid in keeping watch would be of immense service. Accord¬ 
ingly, that evening, when John went out for his usual pipe 
after supper, Cyril, who had to go to a trader in Holborn, 
followed him out quickly and overtook him a few yards from 
the door. 

“I want to have a talk with you, John.” 

“Ay, ay, sir. Where shall it be? Nothing wrong, I hope? 
That new apprentice looks to me an honest sort of chap, and 
the man we have got in the yard now is an old mate of mine. 
He was a ship’s boy on board the Dolphin twenty-five years 
back, and he sailed under the Captain till he left the sea. I 
would trust that chap just as I would myself.” 

“It is nothing of that sort, John. It is another sort of 
business altogether, and yet it is quite as serious as the last. I 
have got half an hour before I have to start to do those books 
at Master Hopkins’. Where can we have a talk in a quiet 
place where there is no chance of our being overheard? ” 

“There is a little room behind the bar at the place I go to, 
and I have no doubt the landlord will let us have it, seeing as 
I am a regular customer.” 

“At any rate we can see, John. It is too cold for walking 
about talking here; and, besides, I think one can look at a 
matter in all lights much better sitting down than one can 
walking about.” 

“That is according to what you are accustomed to,” John 


132 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


said, shaking his head. “It seems to me that I can look 
further into the innards of a question when I am walking up 
and down the deck on night watch with just enough wind aloft 
to take her along cheerful, and not too much of it, than I can 
at any other time; but then, you see, that is just what one is 
accustomed to. This is the place.” 

He entered a quiet tavern, and, nodding to five or six 
weather-beaten-looking men, who were sitting smoking long 
pipes, each with a glass of grog before him, went up to the 
landlord, who formed one of the party. He had been formerly 
the master of a trader, and had come into the possession of the 
tavern by marriage with its mistress, who was still the acting 
head of the establishment. 

“We have got a piece of business we want to overhaul, 
Peter. I suppose we can have that cabin in yonder for a bit? ” 

“Ay, ay. There is a good fire burning. You will find 
pipes on the table. You will want a couple of glasses of grog, 
of course? ” 

John nodded, and then led the way into the little snuggery 
at the end of the room. It had a glass door, so that, if 
desired, a view could be obtained of the general room, but 
there was a curtain to draw across this. There was a large 
oak settle on either side of the fire, and there was a table, with 
pipes and a jar of tobacco standing between them. 

“This is a tidy little crib,” John said, as he seated himself 
and began to fill a pipe. “ There is no fear of being disturbed 
here. There has been many a voyage talked over and arranged 
in this ’ere room. They say that Blake himself, when the 
Fleet was in the river, would drop in here sometimes, with one 
of his captains, for a quiet talk.” 

A minute later a boy entered and placed two steaming glasses 
of grog on the table. The door closed after him, and John 
said,— 

“Now you can get under way, Master Cyril. You have got 
a fair course now, and nothing to bring you up.” 

“ It is a serious matter, John. And before I begin, I must 


SAVED FROM A VILLAIN 


133 


tell you that I rely on your keeping absolute silence as to what 
I am going to tell you.” 

“That in course,” John said, as he lifted his glass to his 
lips. “You showed yourself a first-rate pilot in that last job, 
and I am content to sail under you this time without asking any 
questions as to the ship’s course, and to steer according to 
orders.” 

Cyril told the story, interrupted frequently by angry ejacu¬ 
lations on the part of the old bo’swain. 

“Dash my wig!” he exclaimed, when Cyril came to an 
end. “But this is a bad business altogether, Master Cyril. 
One can engage a pirate and beat him off if the crew is 
staunch, but when there is treason on board ship, it makes it 
an awkward job for those in command.” 

“The question is this, John: ought we to tell the Captain, 
or shall we try to take the affair into our own hands, and so 
to manage it that he shall never know anything about it?” 

The sailor was silent for a minute or two, puffing his pipe 
meditatively. 

“ I see it is an awkward business to decide,” he said. “ On 
one side, it would pretty nigh kill Captain Dave to know that 
Mistress Nellie has been steering wild and has got out of 
hand. She is just the apple of his eye. Then, on the other 
hand, if we undertook the job without telling him, and one 
fine morning we was to find out she was gone, we should be 
in a mighty bad fix, for the Captain would turn round and 
say, ‘ Why didn’t you tell me? If you had done so, I would 
have locked her up under hatches, and there she would be, 
safe now.’ ” 

“That is just what I see, and it is for that reason I come 
to you. I could not be always on the watch, but I think that 
you and I together would keep so sharp a look-out that we 
might feel pretty sure that she could not get away without our 
knowledge.” 

“We could watch sharply enough at night, Master Cyril. 
There would be no fear of her getting away then without our 


134 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


knowing it. But how would it be during the day? There 
am I in the shop or store from seven in the morning until we 
lock up before supper-time. You are out most of your time, 
and when you are not away, you are in the office at the books, 
and she is free to go in and out of the front door without 
either of us being any the wiser.” 

“I don’t think he would venture to carry her off by day¬ 
light,” Cyril said. “ She never goes out alone now, and could 
scarcely steal away unnoticed. Besides, she would know that 
she would be missed directly, and a hue and cry set up. I 
should think she would certainly choose the evening, when 
we are all supposed to be in bed. He would have a chair 
waiting somewhere near; and there are so often chairs going 
about late, after city entertainments, that they would get off 
unnoticed. I should say the most dangerous time is between 
nine o’clock and midnight. She generally goes off to bed at 
nine or soon after, and she might very well put on her hood 
and cloak and steal downstairs at once, knowing that she 
would not be missed till morning. Another dangerous time 
would be when she goes out to a neighbour’s. The Captain 
always takes her, and goes to fetch her at nine o’clock, but 
she might make some excuse to leave quite early, and go off 
in that way.” 

“That would be awkward, Mr. Cyril, for neither you nor I 
could be away at supper-time without questions being asked. 
It seems to me that I had better take Matthew into the secret. 
As he don’t live in the house he could very well watch wher¬ 
ever she is, till I slip round after supper to relieve him, and 
he could watch outside here in the evening till either you or 
I could steal downstairs and take his place. You can count 
on him keeping his mouth shut just as you can on me. The 
only thing is, how is he to stop her if he finds her coming 
out from a neighbour’s before the Captain has come for her? ” 

“ If he saw her coming straight home he could follow her 
to the door without being noticed, John, but if he found her 
going some other way he must follow her till he sees some- 


SAVED FROM A VILLAIN 


135 


one speak to her, and must then go straight up and say, 
‘Mistress Dowsett, I am ready to escort you home.’ If she 
orders him off, or the man she meets threatens him, as is like 
enough, he must say, ‘ Unless you come I shall shout for aid, 
and call upon passers-by to assist me ’; and, rather than risk 
the exposure, she would most likely return with him. Of 
course, he would carry with him a good heavy cudgel, and 
choose a thoroughfare where there are people about to speak 
to her, and not an unfrequented passage, for you may be sure 
the fellow would have no hesitation in running him through 
if he could do so without being observed.” 

“Matthew is a stout fellow,” John Wilkes said, “and was 
as smart a sailor as any on board till he had his foot smashed 
by being jammed by a spare spar that got adrift in a gale, so 
that the doctors had to cut off the leg under the knee, and 
leave him to stump about on a timber toe for the rest of his 
life. I tell you what, Master Cyril: we might make the thing 
safer still if I spin the Captain a yarn as how Matthew has 
strained his back and ain’t fit to work for a bit; then I can 
take on another hand to work in the yard, and we can put 
him on watch all day. He might come on duty at nine 
o’clock in the morning, and stop until I relieve him as soon 
as supper is over. Of course, he would not keep opposite 
the house, but might post himself a bit up or down the street, 
so that he could manage to keep an eye on the door.” 

“That would be excellent,” Cyril said. “Of course, at 
the supper-hour he could go off duty, as she could not possibly 
leave the house between that time and nine o’clock. You 
always come in about that hour, and I hear you go up to bed. 
When you get there, you should at once take off your boots, 
slip downstairs again with them, and go quietly out. I often 
sit talking with Captain Dave till half-past nine or ten, but 
directly I can get away I will come down and join you. I 
think in that way we need feel no uneasiness as to harm com¬ 
ing from our not telling Captain Dave, for it would be impos¬ 
sible for her to get off unnoticed. Now that is all arranged I 


136 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


must be going, for I shall be late at my appointment unless 
I hurry.” 

“ Shall I go round and begin my watch at once, Master 
Cyril?” 

“No, there is no occasion for that. We know that he 
missed her to-day, and therefore can have made no appoint¬ 
ment; and I am convinced by what he said to the fellows he 
met, that matters are not settled yet. However, we will begin 
to-morrow. You can take an opportunity during the day to 
tell Matthew about it, and he can pretend to strain his back 
in the afternoon, and you can send him away. He can come 
round again next morning early, and when the Captain comes 
down you can tell him that you find that Matthew will not be 
able to work for the present, and ask him to let you take 
another man on until he can come back again.” 

Cyril watched Nellie closely at meal-times and in the even¬ 
ing for the next few days. He thought that he should be 
certain to detect some slight change in her manner, however 
well she might play her part, directly she decided on going 
off with this man. She would not dream that she was sus¬ 
pected in any way, and would therefore be the less cautious. 
Matthew kept watch during the day, and followed if she went 
out with her father to a neighbour’s, remaining on guard out¬ 
side the house until John Wilkes relieved him as soon as he 
had finished his supper. If she remained at home in the 
evening John went out silently, after his return at his 
usual hour, and was joined by Cyril as soon as Captain Dave 
said good-night and went in to his bedroom. At midnight 
they re-entered the house and stole up to their rooms, leaving 
their doors open and listening attentively for another hour 
before they tried to get to sleep. 

On the sixth morning Cyril noticed that Nellie was silent 
and abstracted at breakfast-time. She went out marketing 
with her mother afterwards, and at dinner her mood had 
changed. She talked and laughed more than usual. There 
was a flush of excitement on her cheeks, and he drew the 


SAVED FROM A VILLAIN 


137 


conclusion that in the morning she had not come to an abso¬ 
lute decision, but had probably given an answer to the man 
during the time she was out with her mother, and that she felt 
the die was now cast. 

“ Pass the word to Matthew to keep an extra sharp watch 
this afternoon and to-morrow, John. I think the time is close 
at hand,” he said, as they went downstairs together after 
dinner. 

“Do you think so? Well, the sooner the better. It is 
trying work, this here spying, and I don’t care how soon it is 
over. I only hope it will end by our running down this pirate 
and engaging him.” 

“I hope so too, John. I feel it very hard to be sitting at 
table with her and Captain Dave and her mother, and to 
know that she is deceiving them.” 

“I can’t say a word for her,” the old sailor said, shaking 
his head. “She has as good parents as a girl could want to 
have. They would give their lives for her, either of them, 
cheerful, and there she is thinking of running away from 
them with a scamp she knows nothing of and has probably 
never spoken with for an hour. I knew her head was a bit 
turned with young fellows dangling after her, and by being 
noticed by some of the Court gallants at the last City ball, 
and by being made the toast by many a young fellow in City 
taverns — ‘Pretty Mistress Nellie Dowsett’; but I did not 
think her head was so turned that she would act as she is 
doing. Well, well, we must hope that this will be a lesson, 
Master Cyril, that she will remember all her life.” 

“ I hope so, John, and I trust that we shall be able to man¬ 
age it all so that the matter will never come to her parents’ 
ears.” 

“I hope so, and I don’t see why it should. The fellow 
may bluster, but he will say nothing about it because he would 
get into trouble for trying to carry off a citizen’s daughter.” 

“And besides that, John,— which would be quite as seri¬ 
ous in the eyes of a fellow of this sort,— he would have the 


138 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


laugh against him among all his companions for having been 
outwitted in the City. So I think when he finds the game is 
up he will be glad enough to make off without causing trouble.” 

. “Don’t you think we might give him a sound thrashing? 
It would do him a world of good.” 

“I don’t think it would do a man of that sort much good, 
John, and he would be sure to shout, and then there would be 
trouble, and the watch might come up, and we should all get 
hauled off together. In the morning the whole story would 
be known, and Mistress Nellie’s name in the mouth of every 
apprentice in the City. No, no; if he is disposed to go off 
quietly, by all means let him go.” 

“ I have no doubt that you are right, Master Cyril, but it 
goes mightily against the grain to think that a fellow like that 
is to get off with a whole skin. However, if one should fall 
foul of him some other time, one might take it out of him.” 

Captain Dave found Cyril but a bad listener to his stories 
that evening, and, soon after nine, said he should turn in. 

“I don’t know what ails you to-night, Cyril,” he said. 
“Your wits are wool-gathering, somewhere. I don’t believe 
that you heard half that last story I was telling you.” 

“I heard it all, sir; but I do feel a little out of sorts this 
evening.” 

“You do too much writing, lad. My head would be like 
to go to pieces if I were to sit half the hours that you do at 
a desk.” 

When Captain Dave went into his room, Cyril walked up¬ 
stairs and closed his bedroom door with a bang, himself 
remaining outside. Then he took off his boots, and, holding 
them in his hand, went noiselessly downstairs to the front 
door. The lock had been carefully oiled, and, after putting 
on his boots again, he went out. 

“You are right, Master Cyril, sure enough,” John Wilkes 
said when he joined him, fifty yards away from the house. 
“ It is to-night she is going to try to make off. I thought I 
had best keep Matthew at hand, so I bid him stop till I came 


SAVED FROM A VILLAIN 


139 


out, then sent him round to have a pint of ale at the tavern, 
and when he came back told him he had best cruise about, 
and look for signs of pirates. He came back ten minutes 
ago, and told me that a sedan chair had just been brought to 
the other end of the lane. It was set down some thirty yards 
from Fenchurch Street. There were the two chairmen and 
three fellows wrapped up in cloaks.” 

“That certainly looks like action, John. Well, I should 
say that Matthew had better take up his station at the other 
end of the lane, there to remain quiet until he hears an uproar 
at the chair; then he can run up to our help if we need it. 
We will post ourselves near the door. No doubt Harvey, and 
perhaps one of his friends, will come and wait for her. We 
can’t interfere with them here, but must follow and come up 
with her just before they reach the chair. The further they 
are away from the house the better. Then if there is any 
trouble Captain Dave will not hear anything of it.” 

“That will be a good plan of operations,” John agreed. 
“Matthew is just round the next corner. I will send him to 
Fenchurch Street at once.” 

He went away, and rejoined Cyril in two or three minutes. 
They then went along towards the house, and took post in a 
doorway on the other side of the street, some thirty yards from 
the shop. They had scarcely done so, when they heard foot¬ 
steps, and presently saw two men come along in the middle 
of the street. They stopped and looked round. 

“There is not a soul stirring,” one said. “We can give 
the signal.” 

So saying, he sang a bar or two of a song popular at the 
time, and they then drew back from the road into a doorway 
and waited. 

Five minutes later, Cyril and his fellow-watcher heard a 
very slight sound, and a figure stepped out from Captain Dow- 
sett’s door. The two men crossed at once and joined her. 
A few low words were spoken, and they moved away together, 
and turned up the lane. 


140 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


As soon as they disappeared from sight, Cyril and John 
Wilkes issued out. The latter had produced some long strips 
of cloth, which he wound round both their boots, so as, he 
said, to muffle the oars. Their steps, therefore, as they fol¬ 
lowed, were almost noiseless. Walking fast, they came up to 
the three persons ahead of them just as they reached the sedan 
chair. The two chairmen were standing at the poles, and a 
third man was holding the door open with his hat in his hand. 

“Avast heaving, mates!” John Wilkes said. “It seems to 
me as you are running this cargo without proper permits.” 

Nellie gave a slight scream on hearing the voice, while the 
man beside her stepped forward, exclaiming furiously: 

“S’death, sir! who are you, and what are you interfering 
about?” 

“I am an honest man I hope, master. My name is John 
Wilkes, and, as that young lady will tell you, I am in the 
employ of her father.” 

“Then I tell you, John Wilkes, or John the Devil, or what¬ 
ever your name maybe, that if you don’t at once take yourself 
off, I will let daylight into you,” and he drew his sword, as 
did his two companions. 

John gave a whistle, and the wooden-legged man was heard 
hurrying up from Fenchurch Street. 

“Cut the scoundrel down, Penrose,” Harvey exclaimed, 
“while I put the lady into the chair.” 

The man addressed sprang at Wilkes, but in a moment his 
Court sword was shivered by a blow from the latter’s cudgel, 
which a moment later fell again on his head, sending him 
reeling back several paces. 

“Stay, sir, or I will run you through,” Cyril said, pricking 
Harvey sharply in the arm as he was urging Nellie to enter 
the chair. 

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” the other exclaimed, in a tone of 
fury. “My boy of Cheapside! Well, I can spare a moment 
to punish you.” 

“Oh, do not fight with him, my lord! ” Nellie exclaimed. 


SAVED FROM A VILLAIN 


141 


“My lord!” Cyril laughed. “So he has become a lord, eh?” 

Then he changed his tone. 

“Mistress Nellie, you have been deceived. This fellow is 
no lord. He is a hanger-on of the Court, one John Harvey, 
a disreputable blackguard whom I heard boasting to his boon- 
companions of his conquest. I implore you to return home 
as quietly as you went. None will know of this.” 

He broke off suddenly, for, with an oath, Harvey rushed at 
him. Their swords clashed, there was a quick thrust and 
parry, and then Harvey staggered back with a sword-wound 
through the shoulder, dropping his sword to the ground. 

“Your game is up, John Harvey,” Cyril said. “Did you 
have your deserts I would pass my sword through your body. 
Now call your fellows off, or it will be worse for them.” 

“Oh, it is not true? Surely it cannot be true?” Nellie 
cried, addressing Harvey. “You cannot have deceived me? ” 

The fellow, smarting with pain, and seeing that the game 
was up, replied with a savage curse. 

“You may think yourself lucky that you are only disabled, 
you villain!” Cyril said, taking a step towards him with his 
sword menacingly raised. “ Begone, sir, before my patience 
is exhausted, or, by heaven! it will be your dead body that the 
chairmen will have to carry away.” 

“Disabled or not,” John Wilkes exclaimed, “I will have a 
say in the matter; ” and, with a blow with his cudgel, he 
stretched Harvey on the ground, and belaboured him furiously 
until Cyril dragged him away by force. Harvey rose slowly 
to his feet. 

“Take yourself off, sir,” Cyril said. “One of your brave 
companions has long ago bolted; the other is disarmed, and 
has his head broken. You may thank your stars that you have 
escaped with nothing worse than a sword-thrust through your 
shoulder, and a sound drubbing. Hanging would be a fit 
punishment for knaves like you. I warn you, if you ever 
address or in any way molest this lady again, you won’t get off 
so easily.” 


142 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


Then he turned and offered his arm to Nellie, who was lean¬ 
ing against the wall in a half-fainting state. Not a word was 
spoken until they emerged from the lane. 

“No one knows of this but ourselves, Mistress Nellie, and 
you will never hear of it from us. Glad indeed I am that I 
have saved you from the misery and ruin that must have 
resulted from your listening to that plausible scoundrel. Go 
quietly upstairs. We will wait here till we are sure that you 
have gone safely into your room; then we will follow. I 
doubt not that you are angry with me now, but in time you 
will feel that you have been saved from a great danger.” 

The door was not locked. He lifted the latch silently, and 
held the door open for her to pass in. Then he closed it 
again, and turned to the two men who followed them. 

“This has been a good night’s work, John.” 

“That has it. I don’t think that young spark will be com¬ 
ing after City maidens again. Well, it has been a narrow 
escape for her. It would have broken the Captain’s heart if 
she had gone in that way. What strange things women are! 
I have always thought Mistress Nellie as sensible a girl as one 
would want to see. Given a little over-much, perhaps, to 
thinking of the fashion of her dress, but that was natural 
enough, seeing how pretty she is and how much she is made 
of; and yet she is led, by a few soft speeches from a man she 
knows nothing of, to run away from home, and leave father, 
and mother, and all. Well, Matthew, lad, we sha’n’t want any 
more watching. You have done a big service to the master, 
though he will never know it. I know I can trust you to keep 
a stopper on your jaws. Don’t you let a soul know of this — 
not even your wife.” 

“You trust me, mate,” the man replied. “My wife is a 
good soul, but her tongue runs nineteen to the dozen, and you 
might as well shout a thing out at Paul’s Cross as drop it into 
her ear. I think my back will be well enough for me to come 
to work again to-morrow,” he added, with a laugh. 

“All right, mate. I shall be glad to have you again, for the 


SAVED FROM A VILLAIN 


143 


chap who has been in your place is a landsman, and he don’t 
know a marling-spike from an anchor. Good-night, mate.” 

“Well, Master Cyril,” he went on, as the sailor walked 
away, “I don’t think there ever was such a good wind as that 
which blew you here. First of all you saved Captain Dave’s 
fortune, and now you save his daughter. I look on Captain 
Dave as being pretty nigh the same as myself, seeing as I have 
been with him man and boy for over thirty years, and I feel 
what you have done for him just as if you had done it for 
me. I am only a rough sailor-man, and I don’t know how 
to put it in words, but I feel just full up with a cargo of 
thankfulness.” 

“That is all right,” Cyril said, holding out his hand, which 
John Wilkes shook with a heartiness that was almost painful. 
“ Captain Dave offered me a home when I was alone without 
a friend in London, and I am glad indeed that I have been 
able to render him service in return. I myself have done 
little enough, though I do not say that the consequences have 
not been important. It has been just taking a little trouble 
and keeping a few watches — a thing not worth talking about 
one way or the other. I hope this will do Mistress Nellie 
good. She is a nice girl, but too fond of admiration, and 
inclined to think that she is meant for higher things than to 
marry a London citizen. I think to-night’s work will cure her 
of that. This fellow evidently made himself out to her to be 
a nobleman of the Court. Now she sees that he is neither a 
nobleman nor a gentleman, but a ruffian who took advantage of 
her vanity and inexperience, and that she would have done 
better to have jumped down the well in the yard than to have 
put herself in his power. Now we can go up to bed. There 
is no more probability of our waking the Captain than there 
has been on other nights; but mind, if we should do so, you 
stick to the story we agreed on, that you thought there was 
someone by the gate in the lane again, and so called me to 
go down with you to investigate, not thinking it worth while to 
rouse up the Captain on what might be a false alarm.” 


144 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


Everything remained perfectly quiet as they made their way 
upstairs to their rooms as silently as possible. 

“Where is Nellie? ” Captain Dave asked, when they assem¬ 
bled at breakfast. 

“She is not well,” his wife replied. “I went to her room 
just now and found that she was still a-bed. She said that she 
had a bad headache, and I fear that she is going to have a 
fever, for her face is pale and her eyes red and swollen, just 
as if she had been well-nigh crying them out of her head; her 
hands are hot and her pulse fast. Directly I have had break¬ 
fast I shall make her some camomile tea, and if that does not 
do her good I shall send for the doctor.” 

“ Do so, wife, without delay. Why, the girl has never ailed 
a day for years! What can have come to her? ” 

“ She says it is only a bad headache — that all she wants is 
to be left alone.” 

“ Yes, yes; that is all very well, but if she does not get better 
soon she must be seen to. They say that there were several 
cases last week of that plague that has been doing so much 
harm in foreign parts, and if that is so it behoves us to be very 
careful, and see that any illness is attended to without delay.” 

“I don’t think that there is any cause for alarm,” his wife 
said quietly. “The child has got a headache and is a little 
feverish, but there is no occasion whatever for thinking that it 
is anything more. There is nothing unusual in a girl having 
a headache, but Nellie has had such good health that if she 
had a prick in the finger you would think it was serious.” 

“By the way, John,” Captain Dave said suddenly, “did you 
hear any noise in the lane last night? Your room is at the 
back of the house, and you were more likely to have heard it 
than I was. I have just seen one of the watch, and he tells 
me that there was a fray there last night, for there is a patch 
of blood and marks of a scuffle. It was up at the other end. 
There is some mystery about it, he thinks, for he says that one 
of his mates last night saw a sedan chair escorted by three men 
turn into the lane from Fenchurch Street just before ten o’clock, 


SAVED FROM A VILLAIN 


145 


and one of the neighbours says that just after that hour he 
heard a disturbance and a clashing of swords there. On look¬ 
ing out, he saw something dark that might have been a chair 
standing there, and several men engaged in a scuffle. It 
seemed soon over, and directly afterwards three people came 
down the lane this way. Then he fancied that someone got 
into the chair, which was afterwards carried out into Fen- 
church Street.” 

“I did hear something that sounded like a quarrel or a 
fray,” John Wilkes said, “but there is nothing unusual about 
that. As everything was soon quiet again, I gave no further 
thought to it.” 

“Well, it seems a curious affair, John. However, it is the 
business of the City watch and not mine, so we need not bother 
ourselves about it. I am glad to see you have got Matthew at 
work again this morning. He tells me that he thinks he has 
fairly got over that sprain in his back.” 


K 




CHAPTER VIII 

THE CAPTAIN’S YARN 

M INDFUL of the fact that this affair had added a new 
enemy to those he had acquired by the break-up of the 
Black Gang, Cyril thought it as well to go round and give 
notice to the two traders whose books he attended to in the 
evening, that unless they could arrange for him to do them in 
the daytime he must give up the work altogether. Both pre¬ 
ferred the former alternative, for they recognised the advantage 
they had derived from his work, and that at a rate of pay for 
which they could not have obtained the services of any 
scrivener in the City. 

It was three or four days before Nellie Dowsett made her 
appearance at the general table. 

“I can’t make out what ails the girl,” her mother said, on 
the previous evening. “The fever speedily left her, as I told 
you, but she is weak and languid, and seems indisposed to 
talk.” 

“She will soon get over that, my dear,” Captain Dave said. 
“Girls are not like men. I have seen them on board ship. 
One day they are laughing and fidgeting about like wild 
things, the next day they are poor, woebegone creatures. If 
she gets no better in a few days, I will see when my old friend, 
Jim Carroll, is starting in his brig for Yarmouth, and will run 
down with her myself — and of course with you, wife, if you 
will go —and stay there a few days while he is unloading and 
filling up again. The sea-air will set her up again, I warrant.” 

146 




THE CAPTAIN’S YARN 


147 


“Not at this time of year,” Dame Dovvsett said firmly. 
“With these bitter winds it is no time for a lass to go a-sailing; 
and they say that Yarmouth is a great deal colder than we are 
here, being exposed to the east winds.” 

“Well, well, Dame, then we will content ourselves with a 
run in the hoy down to Margate. If we choose well the wind 
and tide we can start from here in the morning and maybe 
reach there late in the evening, or, if not, the next morning 
to breakfast. Or if you think that too far we will stop at 
Sheerness, where we can get in two tides easily enough if the 
wind be fair.” 

“That would be better, David; but it were best to see how 
she goes on. It may be, as you say, that she will shortly gain 
her strength and spirits again.” 

It was evident, when Nellie entered the room at breakfast¬ 
time the next morning, that her mother’s reports had not been 
exaggerated. She looked, indeed, as if recovering from a 
severe illness, and when she said good-morning to her father 
her voice trembled and her eyes filled with tears. 

“Tut, tut, lass! This will never do. I shall soon hardly 
own you for my Nellie. We shall have to feed you up on 
capons and wine, child, or send you down to one of the baths 
for a course of strengthening waters.” 

She smiled faintly, and then turning, gave her hand to Cyril. 
As she did so, a slight flush of colour came into her cheeks. 

“ I am heartily glad to see you down again, Mistress Nellie,” 
he said, “and wish you a fair and speedy recovery.” 

“I shall be better presently,” she replied, with an effort. 
“Good-morning, John.” 

“Good-morning, Mistress Nellie. Right glad are we to see 
you down again, for it makes but a dull table without your 
merry laugh to give an edge to our appetites.” 

She sat down now, and the others, seeing that it was best to 
let her alone for a while, chatted gaily together. 

“There is no talk in the City but of the war, Cyril,” the 
Captain said presently. “ They say that the Dutch make sure 


148 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


of eating us up, but they won’t find it as easy a job as they 
fancy. The Duke of York is to command the Fleet. They 
say that Prince Rupert will be second. To my mind they 
ought to have entrusted the whole matter to him. He proved 
himself as brave a captain at sea as he was on land, and I will 
warrant he would lead his ships into action as gallantly as he 
rode at the head of his Cavaliers on many a stricken field. 
The ships are fitting out in all haste, and they are gathering 
men at every sea-port. I should say they will have no lack of 
hands, for there are many ships laid up, that at other times 
trade with Holland, and Dantzic, and Dunkirk, and many a 
bold young sailor who will be glad to try whether he can fight 
as stoutly against the Dutch under York and Rupert as his 
father did under Blake.” 

“For my part,” Cyril said, “I cannot understand it; for it 
seems to me that the English and Dutch have been fighting for 
the last year. I have been too busy to read the Journal, and 
have not been in the way of hearing the talk of the coffee¬ 
houses and taverns; but, beyond that it is some dispute about 
the colonies, I know little of the matter.” 

“I am not greatly versed in it myself, lad. Nellie here 
reads the Journal, and goes abroad more than any of us, and 
should be able to tell us something about it. Now, girl, can’t 
you do something to set us right in this matter, for I like not 
to be behind my neighbours, though I am such a stay-at-home, 
having, as I thank the Lord, much happiness here, and no 
occasion to go out to seek it.” 

“There was much discourse about it, father, the evening I 
went to Dame King’s. There were several gentlemen there 
who had trade with the East, and one of them held shares in 
the English Company trading thither. After supper was over, 
they discoursed more fully on the matter than was altogether 
pleasing to some of us, who would much rather that, as we had 
hoped, we might have dancing or singing. I could see that 
Dame King herself was somewhat put out that her husband 
should have, without her knowing of his intention, brought in 


THE CAPTAIN’S YARN 


149 


these gentlemen. Still, the matter of their conversation was 
new to us, and we became at last so mightily interested in it 
that we listened to the discourse without bemoaning ourselves 
that we had lost the amusement we looked for. I know I 
wished at the time that you had been there. I say not that I 
can repeat all that I heard, but as I had before read some of 
the matters spoken of in the Journal, I could follow what the 
gentlemen said more closely. Soon after the coming of the 
King to the throne the friendship between us and the Spaniards, 
that had been weakened during the mastership of Cromwell, 
was renewed, and they gave our ships many advantages at their 
ports, while, on the other hand, they took away the privileges 
the Dutch had enjoyed there, and thus our commerce with 
Spain increased, while that of the Dutch diminished.” 

“That is certainly true, Nellie,” her father said. “We 
have three ships sailing through the Mediterranean now to one 
that sailed there ten years ago,.and doubtless the Dutch must 
have suffered by the increase in our trade.” 

“Then he said that, as we had obtained the Island of Bom¬ 
bay in the East Indies and the City of Tangier in Africa as 
the dowry of the Queen, and had received the Island of Poleron 
for our East India Company by the treaty with Holland, our 
commerce everywhere increased, and raised their jealousy 
higher and higher. There was nothing in this of which com¬ 
plaint could be made by the Dutch Government, but neverthe¬ 
less they gave encouragement to their East and West India 
Companies to raise trouble. Their East India Company 
refused to hand over the Island, and laid great limitations as 
to the places at which our merchants might trade in India. 
The other Company acted in the same manner, and lawlessly 
took possession of Cape Coast Castle, belonging to our English 
Company. 

“The Duke of York, who was patron and governor of our 
African Company, sent Sir Robert Holmes with four frigates 
to Guinea to make reprisals. He captured a place from the 
Dutch and named it James’s Fort, and then, proceeding to the 


150 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


River Gambia, he turned out the Dutch traders there and 
built a fort. A year ago, as the Dutch still held Cape Coast 
Castle, Sir Robert was sent out again with orders to take it by 
force, and on the way he overhauled a Dutch ship and found 
she carried a letter of secret instructions from the Dutch 
Government to the West India Company to take the English 
Fort at Cormantin. Seeing that the Hollanders, although 
professing friendship, were thus treacherously inclined, he 
judged himself justified in exceeding the commission he had 
received, and on his way south he touched at Cape Verde. 
There he first captured two Dutch ships and then attacked 
their forts on the Island of Gorse and captured them, together 
with a ship lying under their guns. 

“ In the fort he found a great quantity of goods ready to be 
shipped. He loaded his own vessels, and those that he had 
captured, with the merchandise, and carried it to Sierra 
Leone. Then he attacked the Dutch fort of St. George del 
Mena, the strongest on the coast, but failed there; but he 
soon afterwards captured Cape Coast Castle, though, as the 
gentlemen said, a mightily strong place. Then he sailed 
across to America, and, as you know, captured the Dutch 
Settlements of New Netherlands, and changed the name into 
that of New York. He did this not so much out of reprisal 
for the misconduct of the Dutch in Africa, but because the 
land was ours by right, having been discovered by the Cabots 
and taken possession of in the name of King Henry VII., 
and our title always maintained until the Dutch seized it 
thirty years ago. 

“ Then the Dutch sent orders to De Ruy ter, who commanded 
the fleet which was in the Mediterranean, to sail away privately 
and to make reprisals on the Coast of Guinea and elsewhere. 
He first captured several of our trading forts, among them 
that of Cormantin, taking great quantities of goods belonging 
to our Company; he then sailed to Barbadoes, where he was 
beaten off by the forts. Then he captured twenty of our ships 
off Newfoundland, and so returned to Holland, altogether 


THE CAPTAIN’S YARN 


151 


doing damage, as the House of Commons told His Majesty, 
to the extent of eight hundred thousand pounds. All this 
time the Dutch had been secretly preparing for war, which they 
declared in January, which has forced us to do the same, 
although we delayed a month in hopes that some accommo¬ 
dation might be arrived at. I think, father, that is all that 
he told us, though there were many details that I do not re¬ 
member.” 

“ And very well told, lass, truly. I wonder that your giddy 
head should have taken in so much matter. Of course, now 
you tell them over, I have heard these things before — the 
wrong that the Dutch did our Company by seizing their post 
at Cape Coast, and the reprisals that Sir Robert Holmes took 
upon them with our Company’s ships — but they made no 
great mark on my memory, for I was just taking over my 
father’s work when the first expedition took place. At any 
rate, none can say that we have gone into this war unjustly, 
seeing that the Dutch began it, altogether without cause, by 
first attacking our trading posts.” 

“It seems to me, Captain Dave,” John Wilkes said, “that 
it has been mighty like the war that our English buccaneers 
waged against the Spaniards in the West Indies, while the two 
nations were at peace at home.” 

“ It is curious,” Cyril said, “ that the trouble begun in Africa 
should have shifted to the other side of the Atlantic.” 

“Ay, lad; just as that first trouble was at last fought out in 
the English Channel, off the coast of France, so this is likely 
to be decided in well-nigh the same waters.” . 

“The gentlemen, the other night, were all of opinion,” 
Nellie said, “that the matter would never have come to such 
a head had it not been that De Witt, who is now the chief 
man in Holland, belongs to the French party there, and has 
been urged on by King Louis, for his own interest, to make 
war with us.” 

“That may well be, Nellie. In all our English wars France 
has ever had a part either openly or by intrigues. France 


152 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


never seems to be content with attending to her own business, 
but is ever meddling with her neighbours’, and, if not fight¬ 
ing herself, trying to set them by the ears against each other. 
If I were a bit younger, and had not lost my left flipper, I 
would myself volunteer for the service. As for Master Cyril 
here, I know he is burning to lay aside the pen and take to 
the sword.” 

“That is so, Captain Dave. As you know, I only took up 
'the pen to keep me until I was old enough to use a sword. I 
have been two years at it now, and I suppose it will be as 
much longer before I can think of entering the service of one 
of the Protestant princes; but as soon as I am fit to do so, I 
shall get an introduction and be off; but 1 would tenfold 
rather fight for my own country, and would gladly sail in the 
Fleet, though I went but as a ship’s boy.” 

“That is the right spirit, Master Cyril,” John Wilkes ex¬ 
claimed. “ I would go myself if the Captain could spare me 
and they would take such a battered old hulk.” 

“ I couldn’t spare you, John,” Captain Dave said. “ I have 
been mighty near making a mess of it, even with you as chief 
mate, and I might as well shut up shop altogether if you were 
to leave me. I should miss you, too, Cyril,” he went on, 
stretching his arm across the table to shake hands with the 
lad. “You have proved a real friend and a true; but were 
there a chance of your going as an officer, I would not balk 
you, even if I could do so. It is but natural that a lad of 
spirit should speak and think as you do; besides, the war may 
not last for long, and when you come back, and the ships are 
paid off, you would soon wipe off the arrears of work, and 
get the books into ship-shape order. But, work or no work, 
that room of yours will always stand ready for you while I 
live, and there will always be a plate for you on this table.” 

“Thank you, Captain Dave. You always overrate my ser¬ 
vices, and forget that they are but the consequence of the 
kindness that you have shown to me. But I have no inten¬ 
tion of going. It was but a passing thought. I have but one 


THE CAPTAIN’S YARN 


153 


friend who could procure me a berth as a volunteer, and as 
it is to him I must look for an introduction to some foreign 
prince, I would not go to him twice for a favour, especially 
as I have no sort of claim on his kindness. To go as a cabin 
boy would be to go with men under my own condition, and 
although I do not shirk hard work and rough usage, I should 
not care for them in such fashion. Moreover, I am doing 
work which, even without your hospitality, would suffice to 
keep me comfortably, and if I went away, though but for a 
month, I might find that those for whom I work had engaged 
other assistance. Spending naught, I am laying by money 
for the time when I shall have to travel at my own 
expense and to provide myself necessaries, and, maybe, to 
keep myself for a while until I can procure employment. I 
have the prospect that, by the end of another two years, I 
shall have gathered a sufficient store for all my needs, and 
I should be wrong to throw myself out of employment merely 
to embark on an adventure, and so to make a break, perhaps 
a long one, in my plans.” 

“Don’t you worry yourself on that score,” Captain Dave 
said warmly, and then checked himself. “ It will be time to 
talk about that when the time comes. But you are right, 
lad. I like a man who steadfastly holds on the way he has 
chosen, and will not turn to the right or left. There is not 
much that a man cannot achieve if he keeps his aim steadily 
in view. Why, Cyril, if you said you had made up your 
mind to be Lord Mayor of London, I would wager that you 
would some day be elected.” 

Cyril laughed. 

“ I shall never set my eyes in that direction, nor do I think 
the thing I have set myself to do will ever be in my power 
— that is, to buyback my father’s estate; but so long as I live 
I shall keep that in view.” 

“ More unlikely things have happened, lad. You have got 
first to rise to be a General; then, what with your pay and 
your share in the sack of a city or two, and in other ways, 


154 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


you may come home with a purse full enough even for that. 
But it is time for us to be going down below. Matthew will 
think that we have forgotten him altogether.” 

Another fortnight passed. Nellie had, to a considerable 
extent, recovered from the shock that she had suffered, but 
her manner was still quiet and subdued, her sallies were less 
lively, and her father noticed, with some surprise, that she 
no longer took any great interest in the gossip he retailed of 
the gay doings of the Court. 

“I can’t think what has come over the girl,” he said to his 
wife. “She seems well in health again, but she is changed a 
good deal, somehow. She is gentler and softer. I think she 
is all the better for it, but I miss her merry laugh and her 
way of ordering things about, as if her pleasure only were to 
be consulted.” 

“I think she is very much improved,” Mrs. Dowsett said 
decidedly; “though I can no more account for it than you 
can. She never used to have any care about the household, 
and now she assists me in my work, and is in all respects 
dutiful and obedient, and is not for ever bent upon gadding 
about as she was before. I only hope it will continue so, 
for, in truth, I have often sighed over the thought that she 
would make but a poor wife for an honest citizen.” 

“Tut, tut, wife. It has never been as bad as that. Girls 
will be girls, and if they are a little vain of their good looks, 
that will soften down in time, when they get to have the 
charge of a household. You yourself, dame, were not so staid 
when I first wooed you, as you are now; and I think you had 
your own little share of vanity, as was natural enough in the 
prettiest girl in Plymouth.” 

When Nellie was in the room Cyril did his best to save her 
from being obliged to take part in the conversation, by inducing 
Captain Dave to tell him stories of some of his adventures at sea. 

“You were saying, Captain Dave, that you had had several 
engagements with the Tunis Rovers,” he said one evening. 
“Were they ever near taking you? ” 


THE CAPTAIN’S YARN 


155 


“They did take me once, lad, and that without an engage¬ 
ment; but, fortunately, I was not very long a prisoner. It 
was not a pleasant time though, John, was it? ” 

“ It was not, Captain Dave. I have been in sore danger of 
wreck several times, and in three big sea-fights; but never 
did I feel so out of heart as when I was lying, bound hand 
and foot, on the ballast in the hold of that corsair. No true 
sailor is afraid of being killed; but the thought that one might 
be all one’s life a slave among the cruel heathen was enough 
to take the stiffness out of any man’s courage.” 

“ But how was it that you were taken without an engage¬ 
ment, Captain Dave? And how did you make your escape?” 

“Well, lad, it was the carelessness of my first mate that did 
it; but as he paid for his fault with his life let us say naught 
against him. He was a handsome, merry young fellow, and 
had shipped as second mate, but my first had died of fever 
in the Levant, and of course he got the step, though all too 
young for the responsibility. We had met with some bad 
weather when south of Malta, and had had a heavy gale for 
three days, during which time we lost our main topmast, and 
badly strained the mizzen. The weather abated when we were 
off Pantellaria, which is a bare rock rising like a mountain 
peak out of the sea, and with only one place where a landing 
can be safely effected. As the gale had blown itself out, and 
it was likely we should have a spell of settled weather, I 
decided to anchor close in to the Island, and to repair dam¬ 
ages. 

“ We were hard at work for two days. All hands had had 
a stiff time of it, and the second night, having fairly repaired 
damages, I thought to give the crew a bit of a rest, and, not 
dreaming of danger, ordered that half each watch might re¬ 
main below. John Wilkes was acting as my second mate. 
Pettigrew took the first watch; John had the middle watch; 
and then the other came up again. I turned out once or 
twice, but everything was quiet — we had not seen a sail all 
day. There was a light breeze blowing, but no chance of its 


156 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


increasing, and as we were well sheltered in the only spot 
where the anchorage was good, I own that I did not impress 
upon Pettigrew the necessity for any particular vigilance. 
Anyhow, just as morning was breaking I was woke by a shout. 
I ran out on deck, but as I did so there was a rush of dark 
figures, and 1 was knocked down and bound before I knew 
what had happened. As soon as I could think it over, it was 
clear enough. The Moor had been coming into the anchor¬ 
age, and, catching sight of us in the early light, had run along¬ 
side and boarded us. 

“The watch, of course, must have been asleep. There was 
not a shot fired nor a drop of blood shed, for those on deck 
had been seized and bound before they could spring to their 
feet, and the crew had all been caught in their bunks. It was 
bitter enough. There was the vessel gone, and the cargo, 
and with them my savings of twenty years’ hard work, and the 
prospect of slavery for life. The men were all brought aft 
and laid down side by side. Young Pettigrew was laid next 
to me. 

‘“I wish to heaven, captain,’ he said, ‘you had got a pistol 
and your hand free, and would blow out my brains for me. 
It is all my fault, and hanging at the yard-arm is what I de¬ 
serve. I never thought there was the slightest risk — not a 
shadow of it — and feeling a bit dozy, sat down for five min¬ 
utes’ caulk. Seeing that, no doubt the men thought they 
might do the same; and this is what has come of it. I must 
have slept half an hour at least, for there was no sail in sight 
when I went off, and this Moor must have come round the 
point and made us out after that.’ 

“ The corsair was lying alongside of us, her shrouds lashed 
to ours. There was a long jabbering among the Moors when 
they had taken off our hatches and seen that we were pretty 
well full up with cargo; then, after a bit, we were kicked, 
and they made signs for us to get on our feet and to cross over 
into their ship. The crew were sent down into the forward 
hold, and some men went down with them to tie them up 


THE CAPTAIN’S YARN 


157 


securely. John Wilkes, Pettigrew, and myself were shoved 
down into a bit of a place below the stern cabin. Our legs 
were tied, as well as our arms. The trap was shut, and there 
we were in the dark. Of course I told Pettigrew that, though 
he had failed in his duty, and it had turned out badly, he 
wasn’t to be blamed as if he had gone to sleep in sight of an 
enemy. 

. “‘1 had never given the Moors a thought myself, ’ I said, 
4 and it was not to be expected that you would. But no 
sailor, still less an officer, ought to sleep on his watch, even 
if his ship is anchored in a friendly harbour, and you are to 
blame that you gave way to drowsiness. Still, even if you 
hadn’t, it might have come to the same thing in the long run, 
for the corsair is a large one, and might have taken us even 
if you had made her out as she rounded the point.’ 

“ But, in spite of all I could say to cheer him, he took it to 
heart badly, and was groaning and muttering to himself when 
they left us in the dark, so I said to him,— 

“‘Look here, lad, the best way to retrieve the fault you 
have committed is to try and get us out of the scrape. Set 
your brains to work, and let us talk over what had best be 
done. There is no time to be lost, for with a fair wind they 
can run from here to Tunis in four-and-twenty hours, and 
once there one may give up all hope. There are all our crew 
on board this ship. The Moor carried twice as many men 
as we do, but we may reckon they will have put more than 
half of them on board our barque; they don’t understand her 
sails as well as they do their own, and will therefore want a 
strong prize crew on board. ’ 

“‘I am ready to do anything, captain,’ the young fellow 
said firmly. ‘If you were to give me the word, I would get 
into their magazine if I could, and blow the ship into 
the air.’ 

“‘Well, I don’t know that I will give you that order, Petti¬ 
grew. To be a heathen’s slave is bad, but, at any rate, I 
would rather try that life for a bit than strike my colours at 


158 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


once. Now let us think it over. In the first place we have 
to get rid of these ropes; then we have to work our way for¬ 
ward to the crew; and then to get on deck and fight for it. 
It is a stiff job, look at it which way one will, but at any rate 
it will be better to be doing something — even if we find at 
last that we can’t get out of this dog-kennel — than to lie here 
doing nothing. ’ 

“After some talk, we agreed that it was not likely the Moors 
would come down to us for a long time, for they might reckon 
that we could hold on without food or water easy enough until 
they got to Tunis; having agreed as to that point, we set to 
work to get our ropes loose. Wriggling wouldn’t do it, though 
we tried until the cords cut into our flesh. 

“At last Pettigrew said,— 

“‘What a fool lam! I have got my knife hanging from a 
lanyard round my neck. It is under my blouse, so they did 
not notice it when they turned my pockets out.’ 

“ It was a long job to get at that knife. At last I found the 
string behind his neck, and, getting hold of it with my teeth, 
pulled till the knife came up to his throat. Then John got 
it in his teeth, and the first part of the job was done. The 
next was easy enough. John held the handle of the knife in 
his teeth and Pettigrew got hold of the blade in his, and 
between them they made a shift to open it; then, after a good 
deal of trouble, Pettigrew shifted himself till he managed 
to get the knife in his hands. I lay across him and worked 
myself backwards and forwards till the blade cut through the 
rope at my wrist; then, in two more minutes, we were free. 
Then we felt about, and found that the boarding between us 
and the main hold was old and shaky, and, with the aid of the 
knife and of our three shoulders, we made a shift at last to 
wrench one of the boards from its place. 

“Pettigrew, who was slightest, crawled through, and we 
soon got another plank down. The hold was half full of 
cargo, which, no doubt, they had taken out of some ship or 
other. We made our way forward till we got to the bulkhead, 


THE CAPTAIN’S YARN 


159 


which, like the one we had got through, was but a make-shift 
sort of affair, with room to put your fingers between the 
planks. So we hailed the men and told them how we had got 
free, and that if they didn’t want to work all their lives as 
slaves they had best do the same. They were ready enough, 
you may be sure, and, finding a passage between the planks 
wider in one place than the rest, we passed the knife through 
to them, and told them how to set about cutting the rope. 
They were a deal quicker over it than we had been, for in 
our place there had been no height where we could stand up¬ 
right, but they were able to do so. Two men, standing back 
to back and one holding the knife, made quick work of cut¬ 
ting the rope. 

“We had plenty of strength now, and were not long in get¬ 
ting down a couple of planks. The first thing was to make a 
regular overhaul of the cargo — as well as we could do it, with¬ 
out shifting things and making a noise — to look for weapons 
or for anything that would come in handy for the fight. Not 
a thing could we find, but we came upon a lot of kegs that we 
knew, by their feel, were powder. If there had been arms and 
we could have got up, we should have done it at once, trust¬ 
ing to seize the ship before the other could come up to her 
help. But without arms it would be madness to try in broad 
daylight, and we agreed to wait till night, and to lie down 
again where we were before, putting the ropes round our legs 
again and our hands behind our backs, so that, if they did 
look in, everything should seem secure. 

“‘We shall have plenty of time,’ one of the sailors said, 
‘for they have coiled a big hawser down on the hatch.’ 

“ When we got back to our lazaret, we tried the hatch by 
which we had been shoved down, but the three of us couldn’t 
move it any more than if it had been solid stone. We had a 
goodish talk over it, and it was clear that the hatchway of the 
main hold was our only chance of getting out; and we might 
find that a tough job. 

“‘If we can’t do it in any other way,’ Pettigrew said, ‘1 


160 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


should say we had best bring enough bales and things to fill 
this place up to within a foot of the top; then on that we 
might put a keg of powder, bore a hole in it, and make a slow 
match that would blow the cabin overhead into splinters, while 
the bales underneath it would prevent the force of the explo¬ 
sion blowing her bottom out. ’ 

“ We agreed that, if the worst came to the worst, we would 
try this, and having settled that, went back to have a look at 
the main hatch. Feeling about round it, we found the points 
of the staple on which the hatchway bar worked above; they 
were not fastened with nuts as they would have been with us, 
but were simply turned over and clinched. We had no means 
of straightening them out, but we could cut through the wood¬ 
work round them. Setting to work at that, we took it by turns 
till we could see the light through the wood; then we left it 
to finish after dark. All this time we knew we were under 
sail by the rippling of the water along the sides. The men on 
board were evidently in high delight at their easy capture, and 
kicked up so much noise that there was no fear of their hear¬ 
ing any slight stir we made below. 

“Very carefully we brought packages and bales under the 
hatchway, till we built up a sort of platform about four feet 
below it. We reckoned that, standing as thick as we could 
there, and all lifting together, we could make sure of hoisting 
the hatchway up, and could then spring out in a moment. 

Pettigrew still stuck to his plan, and talked us into carrying 
it out, both under the fore and aft hatches, pointing out that 
the two explosions would scare the crew out of their wits, that 
some would be killed, and many jump overboard in their 
fright. We came to see that the scheme was really a good 
one, so set all the crew to carry out the business, and they, 
working with stockinged feet, built up a platform under their 
hatch, as well as in our den aft. Then we made holes in two 
of the kegs of powder, and, shaking a little out, damped it, 
and rubbed it into two strips of cotton. Putting an end of a 
slow match into each of the holes, we laid the kegs in their 
places and waited. 


THE CAPTAIN’S YARN 


161 


“We made two other fuses, so that a man could go forward, 
and another aft, to fire them both together. Two of the men 
were told off for this job, and the rest of us gathered under the 
main hatch, for we had settled now that if we heard them 
making any move to open the hatches we would fire the powder 
at once, whatever hour it was. In order to be ready, we cut 
deeper into the woodwork round the staple till there was but 
the thickness of a card remaining, and we could tell by this 
how light it was above. 

“It don’t take long to tell you, but all this had taken us a 
good many hours; and so baked were we by the heat down 
below, and parched by thirst, that it was as much as I could 
do to persuade the men to wait until nightfall. At last we 
saw the light in the cut fade and darken. Again the men 
wanted to be at work, but I pointed out that if we waited till 
the crew had laid down on the deck, we might carry it through 
without losing a life, but if they were all awake, some of them 
would be sure to come at us with their weapons, and, unarmed 
as we were, might do us much harm. Still, though I suc¬ 
ceeded in keeping the men quiet, I felt it was hard work to put 
a stopper on my own impatience. 

“At last even John here spoke up for action. 

“‘I expect those who mean to sleep are off by this time,’ he 
said. ‘As to reckoning upon them all going off, there ain’t 
no hope of it; they will sit and jabber all night. They have 
made a good haul, and have taken a stout ship with a full 
hold, and five-and-twenty stout slaves, and that without losing 
a man. There won’t be any sleep for most of them. I reckon 
it is two bells now. I do think, Captain, we might as well 
begin, for human nature can’t stand this heat and thirst much 
longer. ’ 

“‘All right, John,’ I said. ‘Now, lads, remember that when 
the first explosion comes — for we can’t reckon on the two 
slow matches burning just the same time — we all heave 
together till we find the hatch lifts; then, when the second 
comes, we chuck it over and leap out. If you see a weapon, 

L 


162 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


catch it up, but don’t waste time looking about, but go at 
them with your fists. They will be scared pretty well out of 
their senses, and you will not be long before you all get hold 
of weapons of some sort. Now, Pettigrew, shove your blade 
up through the wood and cut round the staple. Now, Jack 
Brown, get out that tinder-box you said you had about you, 
and get a spark going.’ 

“Three or four clicks were heard as the sailor struck his flint 
against the steel lid of the tinder-box. 

“‘All right, yer honour,’ he said, ‘I have got the spark.’ 

“Then the two hands we had given the slow matches to, lit 
them at the tinder-box, and went fore and aft, while as many 
of the rest of us as could crowded under the hatch. 

“‘Are you ready, fore and aft? ’ I asked. 

“The two men hailed in reply. 

“‘Light the matches, then, and come here.’ 

“I suppose it was not above a minute, but it seemed ten 
before there was a tremendous explosion aft. The ship shook 
from stem to stern. There was a moment’s silence, and then 
came yells and screams mixed with the sound of timbers and 
wreckage falling on the deck. 

“‘Now lift,’ I said. ‘But not too high. That is enough — 
she is free. Wait for the other.’ 

“There was a rush of feet overhead as the Moors ran for¬ 
ward. Then came the other explosion. 

“‘Off with her, lads! ’ I shouted, and in a moment we flung 
the hatch off and leapt out with a cheer. There was no fight¬ 
ing to speak of. The officers had been killed by the first ex¬ 
plosion under their cabin, and many of the men had either 
been blown overboard or lay crushed under the timber and 
wreckage. 

“The second explosion had been even more destructive, for 
it happened just as the crew, in their terror, had rushed for¬ 
ward. Many of those unhurt had sprung overboard at once, 
and as we rushed up most of the others did the same. There 
was no difficulty about arms, for the deck was strewn with 


THE CAPTAIN’S YARN 


163 


weapons. Few of us, however, stopped to pick one up, but, 
half mad with rage and thirst, rushed forward at the Moors. 
That finished them; and before we got to them the last had 
sprung overboard. There was a rush on the part of the men 
to the scuttle butt. 

“ ‘Take one drink, lads, ’ I shouted, ‘and then to the buckets. ’ 

“It took us a quarter of an hour’s hard work to put out the 
flames, and it was lucky the powder had blown so much of the 
decks up that we were enabled to get at the fire without diffi¬ 
culty, and so extinguish it before it got any great hold. 

“ As soon as we had got it out I called a muster. There was 
only one missing; — it was Pettigrew, he being the first to leap 
out and rush aft. There had been but one shot fired by the 
Moors. One fellow, as he leapt on to the rail, drew his pistol 
from his belt and fired before he sprang overboard. In the 
excitement and confusion no one had noticed whether the shot 
took effect, for two or three men had stumbled and fallen over 
fragments of timber or bodies as we rushed aft. But now we 
searched, and soon came on the poor young fellow. The ball 
had struck him fair on the forehead, and he had fallen dead 
without a word or a cry. 

“There was, however, no time to grieve. We had got to 
re-capture the barque, which had been but a cable’s length 
away when we rushed on deck; while we had been fighting the 
fire she had sailed on, regardless of the shrieks and shouts of 
the wretches who had sprung overboard from us. But she was 
still near us; both vessels had been running before the wind, 
for I had sent John Wilkes to the tiller the moment that we 
got possession of the corsair, and the barque was but about a 
quarter of a mile ahead. 

“The wind was light, and we were running along at four 
knots an hour. The Moors on board the Kate had, luckily, 
been too scared by the explosion to think of getting one of the 
guns aft and peppering us while we were engaged in putting 
out the fire; and indeed, they could not have done us much 
harm if they had, for the high fo’castle hid us from their view. 


164 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“As soon as we had found Pettigrew’s body and laid it on 
the hatch we had thrown off, I went aft to John. 

“‘Are we gaining on her, John? ’ 

“‘No; she has drawn away a little. But this craft is not 
doing her best. I expect they wanted to keep close to the 
barque, and so kept her sheets in. If you square the sails, 
captain, we shall soon be upon her.’ 

“ That was quickly done, and then the first thing was to see 
that the men were all armed. We could have got a gun for¬ 
ward, but I did not want to damage the Kate , and we could 
soon see that we were closing on her. We shoved a bag of 
musket-balls into each cannon, so as to sweep her decks as we 
came alongside, for we knew that her crew was a good deal 
stronger than we were. Still, no one had any doubt as to the 
result, and it was soon evident that the Moors had got such a 
scare from the fate of their comrades that they had no stomach 
for fighting. 

“‘They are lowering the boats,’ John shouted, 
t “ ‘All the better, ’ I said. ‘They would fight like rats caught 
in a trap if we came up to them, and though we are men 
enough to capture her, we might lose half our number.’ 

“ As soon as the boats reached the water they were all pulled 
up to the starboard side, and then the helm was put down, and 
the barque came round till she was broadside on to us. 

“‘Down with your helm, John Wilkes! ’ I shouted. ‘Hard 
down, man! ’ 

“John hesitated, for he had thought that I should have gone 
round to the other side of her and so have caught all the boats; 
but, in truth, I was so pleased at the thought of getting the 
craft back again that I was willing to let the poor villains go, 
since they were of a mind to do so without giving us trouble. 
We had punished them enough, and the shrieks and cries of 
those left behind to drown were ringing in my ears then. So 
we brought the corsair up quietly by the side of the Kate , 
lashed her there, and then, with a shout of triumph, sprang on 
board the old barky. 


THE CAPTAIN’S YARN 


165 


“Not a Moor was left on board. The boats were four or 
five hundred yards away, rowing at the top of their speed. The 
men would have run to the guns, but I shouted,— 

“‘Let them go, lads. We have punished them heavily 
enough; we have taken their ship, and sent half of them to 
Eternity. Let them take the tale back to Tunis how a British 
merchantman re-captured their ship. Now set to work to get 
some of the sail off both craft, and then, when we have got 
things snug, we will splice the main brace and have a meal. ’ 
“There is no more to tell. We carried the rover into Gib¬ 
raltar and sold her and her cargo there. It brought in a good 
round sum, and, except for the death of Pettigrew, we had no 
cause to regret the corsair having taken us by surprise that 
night off Pantellaria.” 

“That was an exciting business, indeed, Captain Dave,” 
Cyril said, when the Captain brought his story to a conclusion. 
“ If it had not been for your good fortune in finding thos£ 
kegs of powder, and Pettigrew’s idea of using them as he did, 
you and John might now, if you had been alive, have been 
working as slaves among the Moors.” 

“Yes, lad. And not the least lucky thing was that Petti¬ 
grew’s knife and Jack Brown’s tinder-box had escaped the 
notice of the Moors. Jack had it in an inside pocket sewn 
into his shirt so as to keep it dry. It was a lesson to me, and 
for the rest of the time I was at sea I always carried a knife, 
with a lanyard round my neck, and stowed away in an inside 
pocket of my shirt, together with a tinder-box. They are two 
as useful things as a sailor can have about him, for, if cast 
upon a desert shore after a wreck, a man with a knife and 
tinder-box may make shift to live, when, without them, he 
and his comrades might freeze to death.” 



CHAPTER IX 

THE FIRE IN THE SAVOY 

r PHE next evening John Wilkes returned after an absence of 
A but half an hour. 

“Why, John, you can but have smoked a single pipe! Did 
you not find your cronies there? ” 

“I hurried back, Captain, because a man from one of the 
ships in the Pool landed and said there was a great light in 
the sky, and that it seemed to him it was either a big fire in 
the Temple, or in one of the mansions beyond the walls; so 
methought I would come in and ask Cyril if he would like to 
go with me to see what was happening.” 

“I should like it much, John. I saw a great fire in Hol- 
born just after I came over from France, and a brave sight it 
was, though very terrible; and I would willingly see one again.” 

He took his hat and cloak and was about to be off, when 
Captain Dave called after him,—• 

“Buckle on your sword, lad, and leave your purse behind 
you. A fire ever attracts thieves and cut-throats, who flock 
round in hopes of stealing something in the confusion. Be¬ 
sides, as I have told you before, you should never go out after 
dark without your sword, even were it but to cross the road.” 

Cyril ran upstairs to his room, buckled on his weapon, and 
ran down again. 

“The Captain is right,” John Wilkes said, as he joined him 
at the door. “After your two adventures, it would be folly 
for you to go out unarmed.” 


166 




THE FIRE IN THE SAVOY 


167 


“ Oh, I expect they have forgotten about me long ago,” Cyril 
laughed lightly. 

“I don’t know,” John Wilkes said seriously. “As to 
Marner’s gang, I think that there is not much fear from them, 
unless that young rascal Robert and the scoundrel who was with 
him have returned from Holland; and that they are not likely 
to do for some time to come. But it would not be in human 
nature if the man you call John Harvey should take his defeat 
without trying to pay you back for that wound you gave him, 
for getting Mistress Nellie out of his hands, and for making 
him the laughing-stock of his comrades. I tell you that there 
is scarce an evening that I have gone out but some fellow 
passes me before I have gone twenty yards, and, as he brushes 
my sleeve, turns his head to look at me. But yesternight I 
said to one who so behaved, ‘Look here, mate, this is not the 
first time you have run against me. I warn you that if it 
happens again I will crack your head with my cudgel.’ The 
fellow went off, muttering and grumbling, but I have no doubt 
that he and the others, for it certainly was not always the same 
man, were watching for you. To-night there was no one 
about, or, if there was, he did not come near me, and it may 
be that, finding you never leave the house after nightfall, they 
have decided to give it up for the present. But I thought I 
heard a footfall lower down the street, just as we came out of 
the house, and it is like enough that we are followed now.” 

“At any rate, they would scarce attack two of us, John, and 
I should not mind if they did. It is a stab in the back that I 
am afraid of more than an open quarrel.” 

“You may have a better swordsman to deal with next 
time. The fellow himself would scarcely care to cross swords 
with you again, but he would have no difficulty in getting half- 
a-dozen cut-throats from the purlieus of the Temple or West¬ 
minster, professional bullies, who are ready to use their swords 
to those who care to purchase them, and who Would cut a 
throat for a few crowns, without caring a jot whose throat it 
was. Some of these fellows are disbanded soldiers. Some 


168 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


are men who were ruined in the wars. Some are tavern bullies 
— broken men, reckless and quarrelsome gamblers so long as 
they have a shilling in their pockets, but equally ready to take 
to the road or to rob a house when their pockets are empty.” 

By this time they had passed the Exchange into Cheapside. 
Many people were hurrying in the same direction and won¬ 
dering where the fire was. Presently one of the Fire Compa¬ 
nies, with buckets, ladders, and axes, passed them-at a run. 
Even in Cheapside the glow in the sky ahead could be plainly 
seen, but it was not until they passed St. Paul’s and stood at 
the top of Ludgate Hill that the flames, shooting up high in 
the air, were visible. They were almost straight ahead. 

“It must be at the other end of Fleet Street,” Cyril said, as 
they broke into a run. 

“Farther than that, lad. It must be one of the mansions 
along the Strand. A fire always looks closer than it is. I 
have seen a ship in flames that looked scarce a mile away, and 
yet, sailing with a brisk wind, it took us over an hour to come 
up to it.” 

The crowd became thicker as they approached Temple Bar. 
The upper windows of the houses were all open, and women 
were leaning out looking at the sight. From every lane and 
alley men poured into the street and swelled the hurrying 
current. They passed through the Bar, expecting to find that 
the fire was close at hand. They had, however, some distance 
farther to go, for the fire was at a mansion in the Savoy. 
Another Fire Company came along when they were within a 
hundred yards of the spot. 

“Join in with them,” Cyril said; and he and John Wilkes 
managed to push their way into the ranks, joining in the shout, 
“Way there, way! Make room for the buckets! ” 

Aided by some of the City watch the Company made its 
way through the crowd, and hurried down the hill from the 
Strand into the Savoy. A party of the King’s Guard, who 
had just marched up, kept back the crowd, and, when once 
in the open space, Cyril and his companion stepped out from 


THE FIRE IN THE SAVOY 


169 


the ranks and joined a group of people who had arTived 
before the constables and soldiers had come up. 

The mansion from which the fire had originated was in 
flames from top to bottom. The roof had fallen in. Volumes 
of flame and sparks shot high into the air, threatening the 
safety of several other houses standing near. The Fire Com¬ 
panies were working their hand-pumps, throwing water on to 
the doors and woodwork of these houses. Long lines of men 
were extended down to the edge of the river and passed the 
buckets backwards and forwards. City officials, gentlemen 
of the Court, and officers of the troops, moved to and fro 
shouting directions and superintending the work. From many 
of the houses the inhabitants were bringing out their furniture 
and goods, aided by the constables and spectators. 

“It is a grand sight,” Cyril said, as, with his companion, 
he took his place in a quiet corner where a projecting portico 
threw a deep shadow. 

“It will soon be grander still. The wind is taking the 
sparks and flames westwards, and nothing can save that house 
over there. Do you see the little jets of flame already burst¬ 
ing through the roof? ” 

“The house seems empty. There is not a window open.” 

“ It looks so, Cyril, but there may be people asleep at the 
back. Let us work round and have a look from behind.” 

They turned down an alley, and in a minute or two came 
out behind the house. There was a garden and some high 
trees, but it was surrounded by a wall, and they could not see 
the windows. 

“ Here, Cyril, I will give you a hoist up. If you stand on 
my shoulders, you can reach to the top of the wall and pull 
yourself up. Come along here to where that branch projects 
over. That’s it. Now drop your cloak, and jump on to my 
back. That is right. Now get on to my shoulders.” 

Cyril managed to get up. 

“I can just touch the top, but I can’t get my fingers on 
to it.” 


170 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“ Put your foot on my head. I will warrant it is strong 
enough to bear your weight.” 

Cyril did as he was told, grasped the top of the wall, and, 
after a sharp struggle, seated himself astride on it. Just as 
he did so, a window in a wing projecting into the garden was 
thrown open, and a female voice uttered a loud scream for 
help. There was light enough for Cyril to see that the lower 
windows were all barred. He shouted back,— 

“Can’t you get down the staircase? ” 

“No; the house is full of smoke. There are some children 
here. Help! Help! ” and the voice rose in a loud scream 
again. 

Cyril dropped down into the roadway by the side of John 
Wilkes. 

“There are some women and children in there, John. 
They can’t get out. We must go round to the other side and 
get some axes and break down the door.” 

Snatching up his cloak, he ran at full speed to his former 
position, followed by Wilkes. The roof of the house was now 
in flames. Many of the shutters and window-frames had also 
caught fire, from the heat. He ran up to two gentlemen who 
seemed to be directing the operations. 

“ There are some women and children in a room at the back 
of that house,” he said. “ I have just been round there to see. 
They are in the second storey, and are crying for help.” 

“I fear the ladders are too short.” 

“I can tie two or three of them together,” Wilkes said. 
“I am an old sailor and can answer for the knots.” 

The firemen were already dashing water on the lower win¬ 
dows of the front of the house. A party with axes were cut¬ 
ting at the door, but this was so massive and solid that it 
resisted their efforts. One of the gentlemen went down to 
them. At his orders eight or ten men seized ladders. Cyril 
snatched some ropes from a heap that had been thrown down 
by the firemen, and the party, with one of the gentlemen, ran 
round to the back of the house. Two ladders were placed 


THE FIRE IN THE SAVOY 


171 


against the wall. John Wilkes, running up one of them, 
hauled several of the others up, and lowered them into the 
garden. 

The flames were now issuing from some of the upper win¬ 
dows. Cyril dropped from the wall into the garden, and, 
running close up to the house, shouted to three or four women, 
who were screaming loudly, and hanging so far out that he 
thought they would fall, that help was at hand, and that they 
would be speedily rescued. John Wilkes rapidly tied three 
of the short ladders together. These were speedily raised, 
but it was found that they just reached the window. One of 
the firemen ran up, while John set to work to prepare another 
long ladder. As there was no sign of life at any other win¬ 
dow he laid it down on the grass when finished. 

“If you will put it up at the next window,” Cyril said, “I 
will mount it. The woman said there were children in the 
house, and possibly I may find them. Those women are so 
frightened that they don’t know what they are doing.” 

One woman had already been got on to the other ladder, 
but instead of coming down, she held on tightly, screaming 
at the top of her voice, until the fireman with great difficulty 
got up by her side, wrenched her hands from their hold, threw 
her across his shoulder, and carried her down. 

The room was full of smoke as Cyril leapt into it, but he 
found that it was not, as he had supposed, the one in which 
the women at the next window were standing. Near the 
window, however, an elderly woman was lying on the floor 
insensible, and three girls of from eight to fourteen lay across 
her. Cyril thrust his head out of the window. 

“Come up, John,” he shouted. “I want help.” 

He lifted the youngest of the girls, and as he got her out 
of the window, John’s head appeared above the sill. 

“Take her down quick, John,” he said, as he handed the 
child to him. “There are three others. They are all insen¬ 
sible from the smoke.” 

Filling his lungs with fresh air, he turned into the blinding 


172 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


smoke again, and speedily reappeared at the window with 
another of the girls. John was not yet at the bottom; he 
placed her with her head outside the window, and was back 
with the eldest girl by the time Wilkes was up again. He 
handed her to him, and then, taking the other, stepped out 
on to the ladder and followed Wilkes down. 

“ Brave lad! ” the gentleman said, patting him on the shoul¬ 
der. “Are there any more of them?” 

“One more — a woman, sir. Do you go up, John. I will 
follow, for I doubt whether I can lift her by myself.” 

He followed Wilkes closely up the ladder. There was a 
red glow now in the smoke. Flames were bursting through 
the door. John was waiting at the window. 

“Which way, lad? There is no seeing one’s hand in the 
smoke.” 

“Just in front, John, not six feet away. Hold your breath.” 

They dashed forward together, seized the woman between 
them, and, dragging her to the window, placed her head and 
shoulders on the sill. 

“You go first, John. She is too heavy for me,” Cyril 
gasped. 

John stumbled out, half suffocated, while Cyril thrust his 
head as far as he could outside the window. 

“That is it, John; you take hold of her shoulder, and I 
will help you get her on to your back.” 

Between them they pushed her nearly out, and then, with 
Cyril’s assistance, John got her across his shoulders. She 
was a heavy woman, and the old sailor had great difficulty in 
carrying her down. Cyril hung far out of the window till he 
saw him put his foot on the ground; then he seized a rung of 
the ladder, swung himself out on to it, and was soon down. 

For a time he felt confused and bewildered, and was con¬ 
scious that if he let go the ladder he should fall. He heard 
a voice say, “Bring one of those buckets of water,” and 
directly afterwards, “Here, lad, put your head into this,” 
and a handful of water was dashed into his face. It revived 


THE FIRE IN THE SAVOY 


173 


him, and, turning round, he plunged his head into a bucket 
that a man held up for him. Then he took a long breath or 
two, pressed the water from his hair, and felt himself again. 
The women at the other window had by this time been 
brought down. A door in the garden wall had been broken 
down with axes, and the women and girls were taken away to 
a neighbouring house. 

“There is nothing more to do here,” the gentlemen said. 
“Now, men, you are to enter the houses round about. Wher¬ 
ever a door is fastened, break it in. Go out on to the roofs 
with buckets, put out the sparks as fast as they fall. I 
will send some more men to help you at once.” He then 
put his hand on Cyril’s shoulder, and walked back with him 
to the open space. 

“We have saved them all,” he said to the other gentleman 
who had now come up, “ but it has been a close touch, and 
it was only by the gallantry of this young gentleman and an¬ 
other with him that the lives of three girls and a woman were 
rescued. I think all the men that can be spared had better 
go round to the houses in that direction. You see, the wind 
is setting that way, and the only hope of stopping the prog¬ 
ress of the fire is to get plenty of men with buckets out on the 
roofs and at all the upper windows.” 

The other gentleman gave the necessary orders to an officer. 

“Now, young sir, may I ask your name?” the other said 
to Cyril. 

“Cyril Shenstone, sir,” he replied respectfully; for he saw 
that the two men before him were persons of rank. 

“ Shenstone ? I know the name well. Are you any relation 
of Sir Aubrey Shenstone? ” 

“He was my father, sir.” 

“A brave soldier, and a hearty companion,” the other said 
warmly. “ He rode behind me scores of times into the thick 
of the fight. I am Prince Rupert, lad.” 

Cyril doffed his hat in deep respect. His father had always 
spoken of the Prince in terms of boundless admiration, and 


174 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


had over and over again lamented that he had not been able 
to join the Prince in his exploits at sea. 

“What has become of my old friend?” the Prince asked. 

“He died six months ago, Prince.” 

“I am sorry to hear it. I did hear that, while I was away, 
he had been suing at Court. I asked for him, but could get 
no tidings of his whereabouts. But we cannot speak here. 
Ask for me to-morrow at Whitehall. Do you know this gen¬ 
tleman? ” 

“No, sir, I have not the honour.” 

“This is the Duke of Albemarle, my former enemy, but 
now my good friend. You will like the lad no worse, my 
Lord, because his father more than once rode with me into 
the heart of your ranks.” 

“Certainly not,” the Duke said. “It is clear that the son 
will be as gallant a gentleman as his father was before him, 
and, thank God! it is not against Englishmen that he will 
draw his sword. You may count me as your friend, sir, 
henceforth.” 

Cyril bowed deeply and retired, while Prince Rupert and 
the Duke hurried away again to see that the operations they 
had directed were properly carried out. 




CHAPTER X 

HOW JOHN WILKES FOUGHT THE DUTCH 

A FTER leaving Prince Rupert, Cyril returned to John 
Wilkes, who was standing a short distance away. 
“John! John!” he said eagerly, as he joined him. “Who 
do you think those gentlemen are ? 99 

“I don’t know, lad. It is easy to see that they are men of 
importance by the way they order everyone about.” 

“The one who went with us to the garden is Prince Rupert; 
the other is the Duke of Albemarle. And the Prince has told 
me to call upon him to-morrow at Whitehall.” 

“ That is a stroke of luck, indeed, lad, and right glad am I 
that I took it into my head to fetch you out to see the fire. 
But more than that, you have to thank yourself, for, indeed, 
you behaved right gallantly. You nearly had the Prince for 
your helper, for just before I went up the ladder the last time 
he stepped forward and said to me, ‘ You must be well-nigh 
spent, man. I will go up this time.’ However, I said that I 
would finish the work, and so, without more ado, I shook off 
the hand he had placed on my arm, and ran up after you. 
Well, it is a stroke of good fortune to you, lad, that you should 
have shown your courage under his eye — no one is more able 
to appreciate a gallant action. This may help you a long way 
towards bringing about the aim you were talking about the 
other night, and I may live to see you Sir Cyril Shenstone yet.” 

“You can see me that now,” Cyril said, laughing. “My 
father was a baronet, and therefore at his death I came into 

175 








176 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


the title, though I am not silly enough to go about the City 
as Sir Cyril Shenstone when I am but a poor clerk. It will 
be time enough to call myself ‘Sir ’ when I see some chance 
of buying back our estate, though, indeed, I have thought of 
taking the title again when I embark on foreign service, as it 
may help me somewhat in obtaining promotion. But do not 
say anything about it at home. I am Cyril Shenstone, and 
have been fortunate enough to win the friendship of Captain 
Dave, and I should not be so comfortable were there any 
change made in my position in the family. A title is an 
empty thing, John, unless there are means to support it, and 
plain Cyril Shenstone suits my position far better than a title 
without a guinea in my purse. Indeed, till you spoke just 
now, I had well-nigh forgotten that I have the right to call 
myself ‘ Sir.’ ” 

They waited for two hours longer. At the end of that time 
four mansions had been burnt to the ground, but the further 
progress of the flames had been effectually stayed. The crowd 
had already begun to scatter, and as they walked eastward the 
streets were full of people making their way homeward. 
The bell of St. Paul’s was striking midnight as they entered. 
The Captain and his family had long since gone off to bed. 

“This reminds one of that last business,” John whispered, 
as they went quietly upstairs. 

“It does, John. But it has been a pleasanter evening in 
every way than those fruitless watches we kept in the street 
below.” 

The next morning the story of the fire was told, and excited 
great interest. 

“Who were the girls you saved, Cyril? ” Nellie asked. 

“I don’t know. I did not think of asking to whom the 
house belonged, nor, indeed, was there anyone to ask. Most 
of the people were too busy to talk to, and the rest were spec¬ 
tators who had, like ourselves, managed to make their way in 
through the lines of the soldiers and watch.” 

“Were they ladies?” 


HOW JOHN WILKES FOUGHT THE DUTCH 


177 


“I really don’t know,” Cyril laughed. “The smoke was 
too thick to see anything about them, and I should not know 
them if I met them to-day; and, besides, when you only see a 
young person in her nightdress, it is hard to form any opinion 
as to her rank.” 

Nellie joined in the laugh. 

“I suppose not, Cyril. It might make a difference to yon, 
though. Those houses in the Savoy are almost all the property 
of noblemen, and you might have gained another powerful 
friend if they had been the daughters of one.” 

“I should not think they were so,” Cyril said. “There 
seemed to be no one else in the house but three maid servants 
and the woman who was in the room with them. I should say 
the family were all away and the house left in charge of ser¬ 
vants. The woman may have been a housekeeper, and the 
girls her children; besides, even had it been otherwise, it was 
merely by chance that I helped’them out. It was John who 
tied the ladders together and who carried the girls down, one 
by one. If I had been alone I should only have had time to 
save the youngest, for I am not accustomed to running up and 
down ladders, as he is, and by the time I had got her down it 
would have been too late to have saved the others. Indeed, I 
am not sure that we did save them; they were all insensible, 
and, for aught I know, may not have recovered from the effects 
of the smoke. My eyes are smarting even now.” 

“And so you are to see Prince Rupert to-day, Cyril? ” Cap¬ 
tain Dave said. “ 1 am afraid we shall be losing you, for he 
will, I should say, assuredly appoint you to one of his ships if 
you ask him.” 

“That would be good fortune indeed,” Cyril said. “I can¬ 
not but think myself that he may do so, though it would be 
almost too good to be true. Certainly he spoke very warmly, 
and, although he may not himself have the appointment of his 
officers, a word from him at the Admiralty would, no doubt, 
be sufficient. At any rate, it is a great thing indeed to have 
so powerful a friend at Court. It may be that, at the end of 

M 


178 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


another two years, we may be at war with some other foreign 
power, and that I may be able to enter our own army instead 
of seeking service abroad. If not, much as I should like to 
go to sea to fight against the Dutch, service in this Fleet would 
be of no real advantage to me, for the war may last but for a 
short time, and as soon as it is over the ships will be laid up 
again and the crews disbanded.” 

“ Ay, but if you find the life of a sailor to your liking, 
Cyril, you might do worse than go into the merchant service. 
I could help you there, and you might soon get the command 
of a trader. And, let me tell you, it is a deal better to walk the 
decks as captain than it is to be serving on shore with twenty 
masters over you; and there is money to be made, too. A 
captain is always allowed to take in a certain amount of cargo 
on his own account; that was the way I scraped together money 
enough to buy my own ship at last, and to be master as well as 
owner, and there is no reason why you should not do the 
same.” 

“ Thank you, Captain Dave. I will think it over when I find 
out whether I like a sea life, but at present it seems to me that 
my inclinations turn rather towards the plan that my father 
recommended, and that, for the last two years, I have always 
had before me. You said, the other day, you had fought the 
Dutch, John?” 

“ Ay, ay, Master Cyril; but, in truth, it was from no wish or 
desire on my part that I did so. I had come ashore from 
Captain Dave’s ship here in the Pool, and had been with some 
of my messmates who had friends in Wapping and had got 
three days’ leave ashore, as the cargo we expected had not 
come on board the ship. We had kept it up a bit, and it was 
latish when I was making my way down to the stairs. I 
expect that I was more intent on making a straight course 
down the street than in looking about for pirates, when sud¬ 
denly I found myself among a lot of men. One of them 
seized me by the arm. 

“ ‘ Hands off, mate ! ’ says I, and I lifted my fist to let fly at 


HOW JOHN WILKES FOUGHT THE DUTCH 


179 


him, when I got a knock at the back of the head. The next 
thing I knew was, I was lying in the hold of a ship, and, as I 
made out presently, with a score of others, some of whom 
were groaning, and some cursing. 

“‘Hullo, mates! ’ says I. ‘What port is this we are brought 
up in? ’ 

“‘We are on board the Tartar , ’ one said. 

“ I knew what that meant, for the Tartar was the receiving 
hulk where they took the pressed men. 

“ The next morning, without question asked, we were brought 
up on deck, tumbled into a small sloop, and taken down to 
Gravesend, and there put, in batches of four or five, into the 
ships of war lying there. It chanced that I was put on board 
Monk’s flagship the Resolution. And that is how it was I came 
to fight the Dutch.” 

“What year was that in,.John? ” 

“’53—in May it was. Van Tromp, at that time, with 
ninety-eight ships of war, and six fire-ships, was in the Downs, 
and felt so much Master of the Sea that he sailed in and 
battered Dover Castle.” 

“Then you were in the fight of the 2nd of June? ” 

“ Ay ; and in that of the 31st of July, which was harder still.” 

“Tell me all about it, John.” 

“ Lor’ bless you, sir, there is nothing to tell as far as I was 
concerned. I was at one of the guns on the upper deck, but I 
might as well have been down below for anything I saw of it. 
It was just load and fire, load and fire. Sometimes, through 
the clouds of smoke, one caught a sight of the Dutchman one 
was firing at; more often one didn’t. There was no time for 
looking about, I can tell you, and if there had been time there 
was nothing to see. It was like being in a big thunderstorm, 
with thunderbolts falling all round you, and a smashing and a 
grinding and a ripping that would have made your hair stand 
on end if you had only had time to think of it. But we hadn’t 
time. It was ‘ Now then, my hearties, blaze away ! Keep it 
up, lads ! The Dutchmen have pretty near had enough of it! ’ 


180 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


And then, at last, ‘They are running, lads. Run in your guns, 
and tend the sails.’ And then a cheer as loud as we could give 
— which wasn’t much, I can tell you, for we were spent with 
labour, and half choked with powder, and our tongues parched 
up with thirst.” 

“How many ships had you? ” 

“We had ninety-five war-ships, and five fire-ships, so the 
game was an equal one. They had Tromp and De Ruyter to 
command them, and we had Monk and Deane. Both Admirals 
were on board our ship, and in the very first broadside the 
Dutch fired a chain-shot, and pretty well cut Admiral Deane 
in two. I was close to him at the time. Monk, who was 
standing by his side, undid his own cloak in a moment, threw 
it over his comrade, and held up his hand to the few of us that 
had seen what had happened, to take no notice of it. 

“ It was a good thing that Deane and Monk were on board 
the same ship. If it had not been so, Deane’s flag would have 
been hauled down and all the Fleet would have known of his 
death, which, at the commencement of the fight, would have 
greatly discouraged the men. 

“ They told me, though I know naught about it, that Rear- 
Admiral Lawson charged with the Blue Squadron right through 
the Dutch line, and so threw them into confusion. However, 
about three o’clock, the fight having begun at eleven, Van 
Tromp began to draw off, and we got more sail on the Resolu¬ 
tion and followed them for some hours, they making a sort of 
running fight of it, till one of their big ships blew up, about 
nine in the evening, when they laid in for shore. Blake came 
up in the night with eighteen ships. The Dutch tried to draw 
off, but at eight o’clock we came up to them, and, after fight¬ 
ing for four hours, they hauled off and ran, in great confusion, 
for the flats, where we could not follow them, and so they 
escaped to Zeeland. We heard that they had six of their best 
ships sunk, two blown up and eleven taken, but whether it was 
so or not I knew not, for, in truth, I saw nothing whatever of 
the matter. 


HOW JOHN WILKES FOUGHT THE DUTCH 


181 


“We sailed to the Texel, and there blocked in De Ruyter’s 
squadron of twenty-five large ships, and we thought that there 
would be no more fighting, for the Dutch had sent to England 
to ask for terms of peace. However, we were wrong, and, to 
give the Dutchmen their due, they showed resolution greater 
than we gave them credit for, for we were astonished indeed 
to hear, towards the end of July, that Van Tromp had sailed 
out again with upwards of ninety ships. 

“ On the 29th they came in view, and we sailed out to engage 
them, but they would not come to close quarters, and it was 
seven at night before the Resolution , with some thirty other 
ships, came up to them and charged through their line. By 
the time we had done that it was quite dark, and we missed 
them altogether and sailed south, thinking Van Tromp had 
gone that way; but, instead, he had sailed north, and in the 
morning we found he had picked up De Ruyter’s fleet, and 
was ready to fight. But we had other things to think of 
besides fighting that day, for the wind blew so hard that it was 
as much as we could do to keep off the shore, and if the gale 
had continued a good part of the ships would have left their 
bones there. However, by nightfall the gale abated some¬ 
what, and by the next morning the sea had gone down suffi¬ 
cient for the main deck ports to be opened. So the Dutch, 
having the weather gauge, sailed down to engage us. 

“ I thought it rough work in the fight two months before, 
but it was as nothing to this. To begin with, the Dutch fire¬ 
ships came down before the wind, and it was as much as we 
could do to avoid them. They did, indeed, set the Ti-iumph 
on fire, and most of the crew jumped overboard; but those 
that remained managed to put out the flames. 

“ Lawson, with the Blue Squadron, began the fighting, and 
that so briskly, that De Ruyter’s flagship was completely dis¬ 
abled and towed out of the fight. However, after I had seen 
that, our turn began, and I had no more time to look about. 
I only know that ship after ship came up to engage us, seem¬ 
ing bent upon lowering Monk’s flag. Three Dutch Admirals, 


182 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


Tromp, Evertson, and De Ruyter, as I heard afterwards, came 
up in turn. We did not know who they were, but we knew 
they were Admirals by their flags, and pounded them with all 
our hearts; and so good was our aim that I myself saw two of 
the Admirals’ flags brought down, and they say that all three 
of them were lowered. But you may guess the pounding was 
not all on our side, and we suffered very heavily. 

“ Four men were hurt at the gun I worked, and nigh half the 
crew were killed or wounded. Two of our masts were shot 
away, many of our guns disabled, and towards the end o£ the 
fight we were towed out of the line. How the day would have 
gone if Van Tromp had continued in command of the Dutch, 
I cannot say, but about noon he was shot through the body by 
a musket-ball, and this misfortune greatly discouraged the 
Dutchmen, who fight well as long as things seem to be going 
their way, but lose heart very easily when they think the matter 
is going against them. 

“ By about two o’clock the officers shouted to us that the 
Dutch were beginning to draw off, and it was not long before 
they began to fly, each for himself, and in no sort of order. 
Some of our light frigates, that had suffered less than the line- 
of-battle ships, followed them until the one Dutch Ad¬ 
miral whose flag was left flying, turned and fought them till 
two or three of our heavier ships came up and he was sunk. 

“We could see but little of the chase, having plenty of 
work, for, had a gale come on, our ship, and a good many 
others, would assuredly have been driven ashore, in the plight 
we were in. Anyhow, at night their ships got into the Texel, 
and our vessels, which had been following them, anchored 
five or six leagues out, being afraid of the sands. Altogether 
we had burnt or sunk twenty-six of their ships of war, while 
we lost only two frigates, both of which were burnt by their 
fire-ships. 

“As it was certain that they would not come out for some 
time again, and many of our ships being unfit for further con¬ 
tention until repaired, we returned to England, and I got my 


183 


HOW JOHN WILKES FOUGHT THE HUTCH 

discharge and joined Captain Dave again a fortnight later, 
when his ship came up the river. 

“ Monk is a good fighter, Master Cyril, and should have the 
command of the Fleet instead of, as they say, the Duke of 
York. Although he is called General, and not Admiral, he 
is as good a sea-dog as any of them, and he can think as well 
as fight. 

“ Among our ships that day were several merchantmen that 
had been taken up for the service at the last moment and had 
guns slapped on board, with gunners to work them. Some 
of them had still their cargoes in the hold, and Monk, think¬ 
ing that it was likely the captains would think more of saving 
their ships and goods than of fighting the Dutch, changed the 
captains all round, so that no man commanded his own vessel. 
And the consequence was that, as all admitted, the merchant¬ 
men were as willing to fight as any, and bore themselves right 
stoutly. 

“Don’t you think, Master Cyril, if you go with the Fleet, 
that you are going to see much of what goes on. It will be 
worse for you than it was for me, for there was I, labouring 
and toiling like a dumb beast, with my mind intent upon 
working the gun, and paying no heed to the roar and confu¬ 
sion around, scarce even noticing when one beside me was 
struck down. You will be up on the poop, having naught to 
do but to stand with youi; hand on your sword hilt, and wait¬ 
ing to board an enemy or to drive back one who tries to board 
you. You will find that you will be well-nigh dazed and 
stupid with the din and uproar.” 

“It does not sound a very pleasant outlook, John,” Cyril 
laughed. “ However, if I ever do get into an engagement, I 
will think of what you have said, and will try and prevent 
myself from getting either dazed or stupid; though, in truth, I 
can well imagine that it is enough to shake anyone’s nerves 
to stand inactive in so terrible a scene.” 

“You will have to take great care of yourself, Cyril,” Nellie 
said gravely. 


184 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


Captain Dave and John Wilkes both burst into a laugh. 

“How is he to take care of himself, Nellie?” her father 
said. “ Do you suppose that a man on deck would be any 
the safer were he to stoop down with his head below the rail, 
or to screw himself up on the leeward side of a mast? No, 
no, lass; each man has to take his share of danger, and the 
most cowardly runs just as great a risk as the man who fear¬ 
lessly exposes himself.” 





CHAPTER XI 

PRINCE RUPERT 

r PHE next day Cyril went down to breakfast in what he had 
1 often called, laughingly, his Court suit. This suit he had 
had made for him a short time before his father’s death, to 
replace the one he had when he came over, that being alto¬ 
gether outgrown. He had done so to please Sir Aubrey, who 
had repeatedly expressed his anxiety that Cyril should always 
be prepared to take advantage of any good fortune that might 
befall him. This was the first time he had put it on. 

“Well, truly you look a pretty fellow, Cyril,” the Captain 
said, as he entered. “Don’t you think so, Nellie?” 

The girl nodded. 

“I don’t know that I like him better than in his black suit, 
father. But he looks very well.” 

“Hullo, lass! This is a change of opinion, truly! For 
myself I care not one jot for the fashion of a man’s clothes, 
but I had thought that you always inclined to gay attire, and 
Cyril now would seem rather to belong to the Court than to 
the City.” 

“If it had been any other morning, father, I might have 
thought more of Cyril’s appearance; but what you were tell¬ 
ing us but now of the continuance of the Plague is so sad, 
that mourning, rather than Court attire, would seem to be the 
proper wear.” 

“Is the Plague spreading fast, then, Captain Dave?” 

“No; but it is not decreasing, as we had hoped it would 

185 





186 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


do. From the beginning of December the deaths rose stead¬ 
ily until the end of January. While our usual death-rate is 
under three hundred it went to four hundred and seventy- 
four. Then the weather setting in very severe checked it till 
the end of February, and we all hoped that the danger was 
over, and that we should be rid of the distemper before the 
warm weather set in; but for the last fortnight there has been 
a rise rather than a fall — not a large one, but sufficient to 
cause great alarm that it will continue until warm weather 
sets in, and may then grow into terrible proportions. So far, 
there has been no case in the City, and it is only in the West 
that it has any hold, the deaths being altogether in the par¬ 
ishes of St. Giles’s, St. Andrew’s, St. Bride’s, and St. James’s, 
Clerkenwell. Of course, there have been cases now and then 
for many years past, and nine years ago it spread to a greater 
extent than now, and were we at the beginning of winter in¬ 
stead of nearing summer there would be no occasion to think 
much of the matter; but, with the hot weather approaching, 
and the tales we hear of the badness of the Plague in foreign 
parts one cannot but feel anxious.” 

“And they say, too, that there have been prophecies of 
grievous evils in London,” Nellie put in. 

“We need not trouble about that,” her father replied. 
“The Anabaptists prophesied all sorts of evils in Elizabeth’s 
time, but naught came of it. There are always men and 
women with disordered minds, who think that they are 
prophets, and have power to see further into the future than 
other people, but no one minds them or thinks aught of their 
wild words save at a time like the present, when there is a 
danger of war or pestilence. You remember Bill Vokes, 
John?” 

“I mind him, yer honour. A poor, half-crazed fellow he 
was, and yet a good seaman, who would do his duty blow high 
or blow low. He sailed six voyages with us, Captain.” 

“ And never one of them without telling the crew that the 
ship would never return to port. He had had dreams about 


PRINCE RUPERT 


187 


it, and the black cat had mewed when he left home, and he 
saw the three magpies in a tree hard by when he stepped from 
the door, and many other portents of that kind. The first time 
he well-nigh scared some of the crew, but after the first voy¬ 
age — from which we came back safely, of course — they did 
but laugh at him; and as in all other respects he was a good 
sailor, and a willing fellow, I did not like to discharge him, 
for, once the men found out that his prophecies came to 
naught, they did no harm, and, indeed, they afforded them 
much amusement. Just as it is on board a ship, so it is else¬ 
where. If our vessel had gone down that first voyage, any 
man who escaped drowning would have said that Bill Vokes 
had not been without reason in his warnings, and that it was 
nothing less than flying in the face of Providence, to put to 
sea when the loss of the ship had been so surely foretold. So, 
on shore, the fools or madmen who have dreams and visions 
are not heeded when times are good, and men’s senses sound, 
whereas, in troubled times, men take their ravings to heart. 
If all the scatterbrains had a good whipping at the pillory it 
would be well, both for them and for the silly people who pay 
attention to their ravings.” 

A few minutes later, Cyril took a boat to the Whitehall 
steps, and after some delay was shown up to Prince Rupert’s 
room. 

“None the worse for your exertions yester-even, young 
gentleman, I hope?” the Prince said, shaking hands with 
him warmly. 

“ None, sir. The exertion was not great, and it was but the 
inconvenience of the smoke that troubled me in any way.” 

“ Have you been to inquire after the young ladies who owe 
their lives to you? ” 

“No, sir; I know neither their names nor their condition, 
nor, had I wished it, could I have made inquiries, for I know 
not whither they were taken.” 

“I sent round early this morning,” the Prince said, “and 
heard that they were as well as might be expected after the 


188 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


adventure they went through. And now tell me about your¬ 
self, and what you have been doing. ’Tis one of the saddest 
things to me, since I returned to England, that so many good 
men who fought by my side have been made beggars in the 
King’s service, and that I could do naught for them. ’Tis a 
grievous business, and yet I see not how it is to be mended. 
The hardest thing is, that those who did most for the King’s 
sendee are those w r ho have suffered most deeply. None of 
those who were driven to sell their estates at a fraction of 
their value, in order to raise money for the King’s treasury 
or to put men into the field, have received any redress. It 
would need a vast sum to buy back all their lands, and Par¬ 
liament w r ould not vote money for that purpose; nor would it 
be fair to turn men out of the estates that they bought and 
paid for. Do you not think so?” he asked suddenly, seeing, 
by the lad’s face, that he was not in agreement with him. 

“No, sir; it does not seem to me that it would be unfair. 
These men bought the lands for, as you say, but a fraction of 
their value; they did so in the belief that Parliament would 
triumph, and their purchase was but a speculation grounded 
on that belief. They have had the enjoyment of the estates 
for years, and have drawn from them an income which has, 
by this time, brought them in a sum much exceeding that 
which they have adventured, and it does not seem to me that 
there would be any hardship whatever were they now 7 called 
upon to restore them to their owners. ’Tis as when a man 
risks his money in a venture at sea. If all goes as he hopes 
he will make a great profit on his money. If the ship is cast 
away or taken by pirates, it is unfortunate, but he has no 
reason to curse his ill-luck if the ship had already made sev¬ 
eral voyages which have more than recouped the money he 
ventured.” 

“ Well and stoutly argued ! ” the Prince said approvingly. 
“ But you must remember, young sir, that the King, on his 
return, w r as by no means strongly seated on the throne. There 
was the Army most evilly affected towards him; there w*ere 


PRINCE RUPERT 


189 


the Puritans, who lamented the upset of the work they or their 
fathers had done. All those men who had purchased the 
estates of the Royalists had families and friends, and, had 
these estates been restored to their rightful owners, there might 
have been an outbreak that would have shaken the throne 
again. Many would have refused to give up possession, save 
to force; and where was the force to come from ? Even had 
the King had troops willing to carry out such a measure, they 
might have been met by force, and had blood once been shed, 
none can say how the trouble might have spread, or what 
might have been the end of it. And now, lad, come to your 
own fortunes.” 

Cyril briefly related the story of his life since his return to 
London, stating his father’s plan that he should some day 
take foreign service. 

“You have shown that you have a stout heart, young sir, as 
well as a brave one, and have done well, indeed, in turning 
your mind to earn your living by such talents as you have, 
rather than in wasting your time in vain hopes and in cease¬ 
less importunities for justice. It may be that you have acted 
wisely in thinking of taking service on the Continent, seeing 
that we have no Army; and when the time comes, I will fur¬ 
ther your wishes to the utmost of my power. But in the 
meantime there is opportunity for service at home, and I will 
gladly appoint you as a Volunteer in my own ship. There 
are many gentlemen going with me in that capacity, and it 
would be of advantage to you, if, when I write to some foreign 
prince on your behalf, I can say that you have fought under 
my eye.” 

“Thank you greatly, Prince. I have been wishing, above 
all things, that I could join the Fleet, and it would be, in¬ 
deed, an honour to begin my career under the Prince of whom 
I heard so often from my father.” 

Prince Rupert looked at his watch. 

“The King will be in the Mall now,” he said. “I will 
take you across and present you to him. It is useful to have 


190 


When London burned 


the entree at Court, though perhaps the less you avail yourself 
of it the better.” 

So saying, he rose, put on his hat, and, throwing his cloak 
over his shoulder, went across to the Mall, asking questions 
of Cyril as he went, and extracting from him a sketch of the 
adventure of his being kidnapped and taken to Holland. 

Presently they arrived at the spot where the King, with 
three or four nobles and gentlemen, had been playing. Charles 
was in a good humour, for he had just won a match with the 
Earl of Rochester. 

“Well, my grave cousin,” he said merrily, “what brings 
you out of your office so early? No fresh demands for money, 

I hope?” 

“ Not at present. And indeed, it is not to you that I should 
come on such a quest, but to the Duke of York.” 

“And he would come to me,” said the King; “so it is the 
same thing.” 

“I have come across to present to your Majesty a very gal¬ 
lant young gentleman, who yesterday evening, at the risk of 
his life, saved the three daughters of the Earl of Wisbech 
from being burned at the fire in the Savoy, where his Lord¬ 
ship’s mansion was among those that were destroyed. I beg 
to present to your Majesty Sir Cyril Shenstone, the son of the 
late Sir Aubrey Shenstone, a most gallant gentleman, who 
rode under my banner in many a stern fight in the service of 
your royal father.” 

“I knew him well,” the King said graciously, “but had 
not heard of his death. I am glad to hear that his son in¬ 
herits his bravery. I have often regretted deeply that it 
was out of my power to requite, in any way, the services 
Sir Aubrey rendered, and the sacrifices he made for our 
House.” 

His brow clouded a little, and he looked appealingly at 
Prince Rupert. 

“ Sir Cyril Shenstone has no more intention of asking for 
favours than I have, Charles,” the latter said. “He is going 



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“CYRIL RAISED THE KING’S HAND TO HIS LIPS.” 















































































PRINCE RUPERT 


191 


to accompany me as a Volunteer against the Dutch, and if 
the war lasts I shall ask for a better appointment for him.” 

“That he shall have,” the King said warmly. “None have 
a better claim to commissions in the Navy and Army than 
sons of gentlemen who fought and suffered in the cause of our 
royal father. My Lords,” he said to the little group of gen-' 
tlemen, who had been standing a few paces away while this 
conversation had been going on, “ I would have you know 
Sir Cyril Shenstone, the son of a faithful adherent of my 
father, and who, yesterday evening, saved the lives of the 
three daughters of My Lord of Wisbech in the fire at the 
Savoy. He is going as a Volunteer with my cousin Rupert 
when he sails against the Dutch.” 

The gentlemen all returned Cyril’s salute courteously. 

“He will be fortunate in beginning his career under the 
eyes of so brave a Prince,” the Earl of Rochester said, bowing 
to Prince Rupert. 

“It would be well if you all,” the latter replied bluntly, 
“w r ere to ship in the Fleet for a few months instead of wast¬ 
ing your time in empty pleasures.” 

The Earl smiled. Prince Rupert’s extreme disapproval of 
the life at Court was well known. 

“We cannot all be Bayards, Prince, and most of us would, 
methinks, be too sick at sea to be of much assistance, were 
we to go. But if the Dutchmen come here, which is not 
likely — for I doubt not, Prince, that you will soon send them 
flying back to their own ports — we shall all be glad to do our 
best to meet them when they land.” 

The Prince made no reply, but, turning to the King, said,— 

“We will not detain you longer from your game, Cousin 
Charles. I have plenty to do, with all the complaints as to 
the state of the ships, and the lack of stores and necessaries.” 

“ Remember, I shall be glad to see you at my levees , Sir 
Cyril,” the King said, holding out his hand. “Do not wait 
for the Prince to bring you, for if you do you will wait long.” 

Cyril doffed his hat, raised the King’s hand to his lips, 


192 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


then, with a deep bow and an expression of thanks, followed 
Prince Rupert, who was already striding away. 

“ You might have been better introduced,” the Prince said 
when he overtook him. “ Still it is better to be badly intro¬ 
duced than to have no introduction at all. I am too old for 
the flippancies of the Court. You had better show yourself 
there sometimes; you will make friends that may be useful. 
By the way, I have not your address, and it may be a fortnight 
or more before the Henrietta is ready to take her crew cn 
board.” He took out his tablet and wrote down the address. 
“ Come and see me if there is anything you want to ask me. 
Do not let the clerks keep you out with the pretence that I am 
busy, but send up your name to me, and tell them that I have 
ordered it shall be taken up, however I may be engaged.” 

Having no occasion for haste, Cyril walked back to the City 
after leaving Prince Rupert. A great change had taken place 
in his fortunes in the last twenty-four hours. Then he had 
no prospects save continuing his work in the City for another 
two years, and even after that time he foresaw grave difficul¬ 
ties in the way of his obtaining a commission in a foreign 
army; for Sir John Parton, even if ready to carry out the 
promise he had formerly made him, might not have sufficient 
influence to do so. Now he was to embark in Prince 
Rupert’s own ship. He would be the companion of many 
other gentlemen going out as Volunteers, and, at a bound, 
spring from the position of a writer in the City to that occu¬ 
pied by his father before he became involved in the trouble 
between King and Parliament. He was already admitted to 
Court, and Prince Rupert himself had promised to push 
his fortunes abroad. 

And yet he felt less elated than he would have expected 
from his sudden change. The question of money was the 
cloud that dulled the brightness of his prospects. As a Vol¬ 
unteer he would receive no pay, and yet he must make a fair 
show among the young noblemen and gentlemen who would 
be his companions. Doubtless they would be victualled on 


PRINCE RUPERT 


193 


board, but he would have to dress well and probably pay a 
share in the expenses that would be incurred for wine and 
other things on board. Had it not been for the future he 
would have been inclined to regret that he had not refused the 
tempting offer; but the advantages to be gained by Prince 
Rupert’s patronage were so large that he felt no sacrifice 
would be too great to that end — even that of accepting the 
assistance that Captain Dave had more than once hinted he 
should give him. It was just the dinner-hour when he arrived 
home. 

“Well, Cyril, I see by your face that the Prince has said 
nothing in the direction of your wishes,” Captain Dave said, 
as he entered. 

“Then my face is a false witness, Captain Dave, for Prince 
Rupert has appointed me a Volunteer on board his own ship.” 

“ I am glad, indeed, lad, heartily glad, though your going 
will be a heavy loss to us all. But why were you looking so 
grave over it? ” 

“I have been wondering whether I have acted wisely in 
accepting it,” Cyril said. “I am very happy here, I am 
earning my living, I have no cares of any sort, and I feel that 
it is a very serious matter to make a change. The Prince 
has a number of noblemen and gentlemen going with him as 
Volunteers, and I feel that I shall be out of my element in 
such company. At the same time I have every reason to be 
thankful, for Prince Rupert has promised that he will, after 
the war is over, give me introductions which will procure me 
a commission abroad.” 

“Well, then, it seems to me that things could not look 
better,” Captain Dave said heartily. “When do you go on 
board ? ” 

“The Prince says it may be another fortnight; so that I 
shall have time to make my preparations, and warn the citi¬ 
zens I work for, that I am going to leave them.” 

“ I should say the sooner the better, lad. You will have to 
get your outfit and pther matters seen to. Moreover, now 

N 


194 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


that you have been taken under Prince Rupert’s protection, 
and have become, as it were, an officer on his ship — for 
gentlemen Volunteers, although they have no duties in regard 
to working the ship, are yet officers — it is hardly seemly that 
you should be making up the accounts of bakers and butchers, 
ironmongers, and ship’s storekeepers.” 

“The work is honest, and I am in no way ashamed of it,” 
Cyril said; “but as I have many things to see about, I sup¬ 
pose I had better give them notice at once. Prince Rupert 
presented me to the King to-day, and His Majesty requested 
me to attend at Court, which I should be loath to do, were it 
not that the Prince urged upon me that it was of advantage 
that I should make myself known.” 

“One would think, Master Cyril, that this honour which 
has suddenly befallen you is regarded by you as a misfortune,” 
Mrs. Dowsett said, laughing. “ Most youths would be over¬ 
joyed at such a change in their fortune.” 

“It would be all very pleasant,” Cyril said, “had I the in¬ 
come of my father’s estate at my back; but I feel that I shall 
be in a false position, thus thrusting myself among men who 
have more guineas in their pockets than I have pennies. 
However, it seems that the matter has been taken out of my 
own hands, and that, as things have turned out, so I must 
travel. Who would have thought, when John Wilkes fetched 
me out last night to go to the fire, it would make an altera¬ 
tion in my whole life, and that such a little thing as climbing 
up a ladder and helping to get three girls out of a room full 
of smoke — and John Wilkes did the most difficult part of the 
work — was to change all my prospects?” 

“There was a Providence in it, Cyril,” Mrs. Dowsett said 
gently. “Why, else, should you have gone up that ladder, 
when, to all seeming, there was no one there. The maids 
were so frightened, John says, that they would never have 
said a word about there being anyone in that room, and the 
girls would have perished had you not gone up. Now as, 
owing to that, everything has turned out according to your 


PRINCE RUPERT 


195 


wishes, it would be a sin not to take advantage of it, for you 
may be sure that, as the way has thus been suddenly opened 
to you, so will all other things follow in due course.” 

“Thank you, madam,” Cyril said simply. “I had not 
thought of it in that light, but assuredly you are right, and I 
will not suffer myself to be daunted by the difficulties there 
may be in my way.” 

John Wilkes now came in and sat down to the meal. He 
was vastly pleased when he heard of the good fortune that had 
befallen Cyril. 

“It seems to me,” Cyril said, “that I am but an impostor, 
and that at least some share in the good luck ought to have 
fallen to you, John, seeing that you carried them all down the 
ladder.” 

“ I have carried heavier bales, many a time, much longer 
distances than that — though I do not say that the woman was 
not a tidy weight, for, indeed, she was; but I would have 
carried down ten of them for the honour I had in being shaken 
by the hand by Prince Rupert, as gallant a sailor as ever 
sailed a ship. No, no; what I did was all in a day’s work, 
and no more than lifting anchors and chains about in the 
storehouse. As for honours, I want none of them. I am 
moored in a snug port here, and would not leave Captain 
Dave if they would make a Duke of me.” 

Nellie had said no word of congratulation to Cyril, but 
as they rose from dinner, she said, in low tones,— 

“ You know I am pleased, and hope that you will have all 
the good fortune you deserve.” 

Cyril set out at once to make a round of the shops where 
he worked. The announcement that he must at once termi¬ 
nate his connection with them, as he was going on board the 
Fleet, was everywhere received with great regret. 

“I would gladly pay double,” one said, “rather than that 
you should go, for, indeed, it has taken a heavy load off 
my shoulders, and I know not how I shall get on in the 
future.” 


196 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“ I should think there would be no difficulty in getting some 
other young clerk to do the work,” Cyril said. 

“Not so easy,” the man replied. “I had tried one or two 
before, and found they were more trouble than they were 
worth. There are not many who write as neatly as you do, 
and you do as much in an hour as some would take a day 
over. However, I wish you good luck, and if you should 
come back, and take up the work again, or start as a scrivener 
in the City, I can promise you that you shall have my books 
again, and that among my friends I can find you as much 
work as you can get through.” 

Something similar was said to him at each of the houses 
where he called, and he felt much gratified at finding that his 
work had given such satisfaction. 

When he came in to supper, Cyril was conscious that some¬ 
thing had occurred of an unusual nature. Nellie’s eyes were 
swollen with crying; Mrs. Dowsett had also evidently been in 
tears; while Captain Dave was walking up and down the 
room restlessly. 

The servant was placing the things upon the table, and, 
just as they were about to take their seats, the bell of the 
front door rang loudly. 

“See who it is, John,” Captain Dave said. “Whoever it 
is seems to be in a mighty hurry.” 

In a minute or two John returned, followed by a gentleman. 
The latter paused at the door, and then said, bowing courte¬ 
ously, as he advanced, to Mrs. Dowsett,— 

“I must ask pardon for intruding on your meal, madam, 
but my business is urgent. I am the Earl of Wisbech, and I 
have called to see Sir Cyril Shenstone, to offer him my heart¬ 
felt thanks for the service he has rendered me by saving the 
lives of my daughters.” 

All had risen to their feet as he entered, and there was a 
slight exclamation of surprise from the Captain, his wife, 
and daughter, as the Earl said “Sir Cyril Shenstone.” 

Cyril stepped forward. 


PRINCE RUPERT 


197 


“I am Cyril Shenstone, my Lord,” he said, “and had the 
good fortune to be able, with the assistance of my friend 
here, John Wilkes, to rescue your daughters, though, at the 
time, indeed, I was altogether ignorant of their rank. It was 
a fortunate occurrence, but I must disclaim any merit in the 
action, for it was by mere accident that, mounting to the win¬ 
dow by a ladder, I saw them lying insensible on the ground.” 

“Your modesty does you credit, sir,” the Earl said, shak¬ 
ing him warmly by the hand. “ But such is not the opinion 
of Prince Rupert, who described it to me as a very gallant 
action; and, moreover, he said that it was you who first 
brought him the news that there were females in the house, 
which he and others had supposed to be empty, and that it 
was solely owing to you that the ladders were taken round.” 

“Will you allow me, my Lord, to introduce to you Captain 
Dowsett, his wife, and daughter, who have been to me the 
kindest of friends? ” 

“A kindness, my Lord,” Captain Dave said earnestly, “that 
has been repaid a thousandfold by this good youth, of whose 
rank we were indeed ignorant until you named it. May I ask 
you to honour us by joining in our meal? ” 

“That will I right gladly, sir,” the Earl said, “for, in 
truth, I have scarce broke my fast to-day. I was down at my 
place in Kent when I was awoke this morning by one of my 
grooms, who had ridden down with the news that my mansion 
in the Savoy had been burned, and that my daughters had had 
a most narrow escape of their lives. Of course, I mounted at 
once and rode to town, where I was happy in finding that they 
had well-nigh recovered from the effects of their fright and 
the smoke. Neither they nor the nurse who was with them 
could give me any account of what had happened, save that 
they had, as they supposed, become insensible from the 
smoke. When they recovered, they found themselves in the 
Earl of Surrey’s house, to which it seems they had been car¬ 
ried. After inquiry, I learned that the Duke of Albemarle 
and Prince Rupert had both been on the scene directing 


198 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


operations. I went to the latter, with whom I have the hon¬ 
our of being well acquainted, and he told me the whole story, 
saying that had it not been for Sir Cyril Shenstone, my daugh¬ 
ters would certainly have perished. He gave credit, too, to 
Sir Cyril’s companion, who, he said, carried them down the 
ladder, and himself entered the burning room the last time, 
to aid in bringing out the nurse, who was too heavy for the 
rescuer of my daughters to lift. Save a cup of wine and a 
piece of bread, that I took on my first arrival, I have not 
broken my fast to-day.” 

Then he seated himself on a chair that Cyril had placed for 
him between Mrs. Dowsett and Nellie. 

Captain Dave whispered to John Wilkes, who went out, and 
returned in two or three minutes with three or four flasks of 
rare Spanish wine which the Captain had brought back on his 
last voyage, and kept for drinking on special occasions. The 
dame always kept an excellent table, and although she made 
many apologies to the Earl, he assured her that none were 
needed, for that he could have supped no better in his own 
house. 

“I hear,” he said presently to Cyril, “that you are going 
out as a Volunteer in Prince Rupert’s ship. My son is also 
going with him, and I hope, in a day or two, to introduce 
him to you. He is at present at Cambridge, but, having set 
his mind on sailing with the Prince, I have been fain to allow 
him to give up his studies. I heard from Prince Rupert that 
you had recently been kidnapped and taken to Holland. He 
gave me no particulars, nor did I ask them, being desirous of 
hurrying off at once to express my gratitude to you. How 
was it that such an adventure befell you — for it would hardly 
seem likely that you could have provoked the enmity of per¬ 
sons capable of such an outrage? ” 

“ It was the result of his services to me, my Lord,” Captain 
Dave said. “Having been a sea-captain, I am but a poor 
hand at accounts; but, having fallen into this business at the 
death of my father, it seemed simple enough for me to get on 


PRINCE RUPERT 


199 


without much book-learning. I made but a bad shape at it; 
and when Master Shenstone, as he then called himself, offered 
to keep my books for me, it seemed to me an excellent 
mode of saving myself worry and trouble. However, when 
he set himself to making up the accounts of my stock, he 
found that I was nigh eight hundred pounds short; and, 
setting himself to watch, discovered that my apprentices were 
in alliance with a band of thieves, and were nightly robbing 
me. We caught them and two of the thieves in the act. 
One of the latter was the receiver, and on his premises the 
proceeds of a great number of robberies were found, and there 
was no doubt that he was the chief of a notorious gang, called 
the ‘Black Gang,’ which had for a long time infested the City 
and the surrounding country. It was to prevent Sir Cyril 
from giving evidence at the trial that he was kidnapped and 
sent away. He was placed in the house of a diamond mer¬ 
chant, to whom the thieves were in the habit of consigning 
jewels; and this might well have turned out fatal to him, for 
to the same house came my elder apprentice and one of the 
men captured with him — a notorious ruffian — who had been 
rescued from the constables by a gang of their fellows, in open 
daylight, in the City. These, doubtless, would have com¬ 
passed his death had he not happily seen them enter the 
house, and made his escape, taking passage in a coaster bound 
for Dunkirk, from which place he took another ship to Eng¬ 
land. Thus you see, my Lord, that I am indebted to him for 
saving me from a further loss that might well have ruined me.” 

He paused, and glanced at Nellie, who rose at once, saying 
to the Earl,— 

“I trust that your Lordship will excuse my mother and 
myself. My father has more to tell you; at least, I should 
wish him to do so.” 

Then, taking her mother’s hand, she curtsied deeply, and 
they left the room together. 

“ Such, my Lord, as I have told you, is the service, so far 
as I knew till this afternoon, Sir Cyril Shenstone has ren- 


200 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


dered me. That was no small thing, but it is very little to 
what I know now that I am indebted to him. After he went 
out I was speaking with my wife on money matters, desiring 
much to be of assistance to him in the matter of the expedi¬ 
tion on which he is going. Suddenly my daughter burst into 
tears and left the room. I naturally bade my wife follow her 
and learn what ailed her. Then, with many sobs and tears, 
she told her mother that we little knew how much we were 
indebted to him. She said she had been a wicked girl, hav¬ 
ing permitted herself to be accosted several times by a well- 
dressed gallant, who told her that he was the Earl of Harwich, 
who had professed great love for her, and urged her to marry 
him privately. 

“ He was about to speak to her one day when she was out * 
under Master Cyril’s escort. The latter interfered, and there 
was well-nigh a fracas between them. Being afraid that some 
of the lookers-on might know her, and bring the matter to 
our ears, she mentioned so much to us, and, in consequence, 
we did not allow her to go out afterwards, save in the com¬ 
pany of her mother. Nevertheless, the man continued to 
meet her, and, as he was unknown to her mother, passed notes 
into her hand. To these she similarly replied, and at last 
consented to fly with him. She did so at night, and was 
about to enter a sedan chair in the lane near this house when 
they were interrupted by the arrival of Master Shenstone and 
my friend John Wilkes. The former, it seems, had his sus¬ 
picions, and setting himself to watch, had discovered that she 
was corresponding with this man — whom he had found was 
not the personage he pretended to be, but a disreputable 
hanger-on of the Court, one John Harvey — and had then kept 
up an incessant watch, with the aid of John Wilkes, outside 
the house at night, until he saw her come out and join the 
fellow with two associates, when he followed her to the chair 
they had in readiness for her. 

“There was, she says, a terrible scene. Swords were 
drawn. John Wilkes knocked down one of the men, and 


PRINCE RUPERT 


201 


Master Shenstone ran John Harvey through the shoulder. 
Appalled now at seeing how she had been deceived, and how 
narrowly she had escaped destruction, she returned with her 
rescuers to the house, and no word was ever said on the sub¬ 
ject until she spoke this afternoon. We had noticed that a 
great change had-come over her, and that she seemed to have 
lost all her tastes for shows and finery, but little did we dream 
of the cause. She said that she could not have kept the 
secret much longer in any case, being utterly miserable at the 
thought of how she had degraded herself and deceived us. 

“ It was a sad story to have to hear, my Lord, but we have 
fully forgiven her, having, indeed, cause to thank God both 
for her preservation and for the good that this seems to have 
wrought in her. She had been a spoilt child, and, being well- 
favoured, her head had been turned by flattery, and she in¬ 
dulged in all sorts of foolish dreams. Now she is truly peni¬ 
tent for her folly. Had you not arrived, my Lord, I should, 
when we had finished our supper, have told Master Shenstone 
that I knew of this vast service he has rendered us — a service 
to which the other was as nothing. That touched my pocket 
only; this my only child’s happiness. I have told you the 
story, my Lord, by her consent, in order that you might know 
what sort of a young fellow this gentleman who has rescued 
your daughter is. John, I thank you for your share in this 
matter,” and, with tears in his eyes, he held out his hand to 
his faithful companion. 

“ I thank you deeply, Captain Dowsett, for having told me 
this story,” the Earl said gravely. “It was a painful one to 
tell, and I feel sure that the circumstance will, as you say, be 
of lasting benefit to your daughter. It shows that her heart 
is a true and loyal one, or she would not have had so painful 
a story told to a stranger, simply that the true character of her 
preserver should be known. I need not say that it has had 
the effect she desired of raising Sir Cyril Shenstone highly in 
my esteem. Prince Rupert spoke of him very highly and 
told me how he had been honourably supporting himself and 



202 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


his father, until the death of the latter. .Now I see that he 
possesses unusual discretion and acuteness, as well as bravery. 
Now I will take my leave, thanking you for the good enter¬ 
tainment that you have given me. I am staying at the house 
of the Earl of Surrey, Sir Cyril, and I hope that you will call 
to-morrow morning, in order that my daughters may thank 
you in person.” 

Captain Dave and Cyril escorted the Earl to the door and 
then returned to the chamber above. 




CHAPTER XII 

NEW FRIENDS 

O N arriving at the room upstairs, Captain Dave placed his 
hand on Cyril’s shoulder and said: 

“How can I thank you, lad, for what you have done for us? ” 
“ By saying nothing further about it, Captain Dave. I had 
hoped that the matter would never have come to your ears, 
and yet I rejoice, for her own sake, that Mistress Nellie has 
told you all. I thought that she would do so some day, for 
I, too, have seen how much she has been changed since then, 
and though it becomes me not to speak of one older than 
myself, I think that the experience has been for her good, 
and, above all, I am rejoiced to find that you have fully for¬ 
given her, for indeed I am sure that she has been grievously 
punished.” 

“Well, well, lad, it shall be as you say, for indeed I am but 
a poor hand at talking, but believe me that I feel as grateful 
as if I could express myself rightly, and that the Earl of Wis¬ 
bech cannot feel one whit more thankful to you for having 
saved the lives of his three children than I do for your having 
saved my Nellie from the consequences of her own folly. 
There is one thing that you must let me do — it is but a small 
thing, but at present I have no other way of showing what I 
feel: you must let me take upon myself, as if you had been 
my son, the expenses of this outfit of yours. I was talking 
of the matter, as you may have guessed by what I said to the 
Earl, when Nellie burst into tears; and if I contemplated this 

203 



204 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


when I knew only you had saved me from ruin, how much 
more do I feel it now that you have done this greater thing? 
I trust that you will not refuse me and my wife this small 
opportunity of showing our gratitude. What say you, John 
Wilkes?” 

“I say, Captain Dave, that it is well spoken, and I am sure 
Master Cyril will not refuse your offer.” 

“ I will not, Captain Dave, providing that you let it be as a 
loan that I may perhaps some day be enabled to repay you. 
I feel that it would be churlish to refuse so kind an offer, and 
it will relieve me of the one difficulty that troubled me when 
the prospects in all other respects seemed so fair.” 

“ That is right, lad, and you have taken a load off my mind. 
You have not acted quite fairly by us in one respect, Master 
Cyril! ” 

“How is that?” Cyril asked in surprise. 

“ In not telling us that you were Sir Cyril Shenstone, and in 
letting us put you up in an attic, and letting you go about as 
Nellie’s escort, as if you had been but an apprentice.” 

Cyril laughed. 

“ I said that my father was Sir Aubrey Shenstone, though I 
own that I did not say so until I had been here some time; 
but the fact that he was a Baronet and not a Knight made 
little difference. It was a friendless lad whom you took in 
and gave shelter to, Captain Dave, and it mattered not 
whether he was plain Cyril or Sir Cyril. I had certainly no 
thought of taking my title again until I entered a foreign 
army, and indeed it would have been a disservice to me here 
in London. I should have cut but a poor figure asking for 
work and calling myself Sir Cyril Shenstone. I should have 
had to enter into all sorts of explanations before anyone 
would have believed me, and I don’t think that, even with 
you, I should have been so comfortable as I have been.” 

“Well, at any rate, no harm has been done,” Captain Dave 
said; “but I think you might have told me.” 

“If I had, Captain Dave, you would assuredly have told 


NEW FRIENDS 


t* 205 


your wife and Mistress Nellie; and it was much more pleasant 
for me that things should be as they were.” 

“Well, perhaps you were right, lad. And I own that I 
might not have let you work at my books, and worry over that 
robbery, had I known that you were of a station above me.” 

“That you could never have known,” Cyril said warmly. 
“ We have been poor ever since I can remember. I owed my 
education to the kindness of friends of my mother, and in no 
way has my station been equal to that of a London trader like 
yourself. As to the title, it was but a matter of birth, and 
went but ill with an empty purse and a shabby doublet. In 
the future it may be useful, but until now, it has been naught, 
and indeed worse than naught, to me.” 

The next morning when Cyril went into the parlour he found 
that Nellie was busy assisting the maid to lay the table. 
When the latter had left the room, the girl went up to Cyril 
and took his hand. 

“I have never thanked you yet,” she said. “I could not 
bring myself to speak of it, but now that I have told them I 
can do so. Ever since that dreadful night I have prayed for 
you, morning and evening, and thanked God for sending you 
to my rescue. What a wicked girl you must have thought me 
— and with reason! But you could not think of me worse 
than I thought of myself. Now that my father and mother 
have forgiven me I shall be different altogether. I had before 
made up my mind to tell them. Still, it did not seem to me 
that I should ever be happy again. But now that I have had 
the courage to speak out, and they have been so good to me, 
a great weight is lifted off my mind, and I mean to learn to 
be a good housewife like my mother, and to try to be worthy, 
some day, of an honest man’s love.” 

“I am sure you will be,” Cyril said warmly. “And so, 
Mistress Nellie, it has all turned out for the best, though it 
did not seem so at one time.” 

At this moment Captain Dave came in. 

“I am glad to see you two talking together as of old,” he 


206 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


said. “We had thought that there must be some quarrel 
between you, for you had given up rating him, Nellie. Give 
her a kiss, Cyril; she is a good lass, though she has been a 
foolish one. Nay, Nellie, do not offer him your cheek — it 
is the fashion to do that to every idle acquaintance. Kiss 
him heartily, as if you loved him. That is right, lass. 
Now let us to breakfast. Where is your mother? She is 
late.” 

“ I told her that I would see after the breakfast in future, 
father, and I have begun this morning — partly because it is 
my duty to take the work off her hands, and partly because I 
wanted a private talk with Sir Cyril.” 

“I won’t be called Sir Cyril under this roof,” the lad said, 
laughing. “ And I warn you that if anyone calls me so I will 
not answer. I have always been Cyril with you all, and I 
intend to remain so to the end, and you must remember that 
it is but a few months that I have had the right to the title, 
and was never addressed by it until by Prince Rupert. I was 
for the moment well nigh as much surprised as you were last 
night.” 

An hour later Cyril again donned his best suit, and started 
to pay his visit to the Earl. Had he not seen him over-night, 
he would have felt very uncomfortable at the thought of the 
visit; but he had found him so pleasant and friendly, and so 
entirely free from any air of pride or condescension, that it 
seemed as if he were going to meet a friend. He was partic¬ 
ularly struck with the manner in which he had placed Cap¬ 
tain Dave and his family at their ease, and got them to talk as 
freely and naturally with him as if he had been an acquain¬ 
tance of long standing. It seemed strange to him to give his 
name as Sir Cyril Shenstone to the lackeys at the door, and he 
almost expected to see an expression of amusement on their 
faces. They had, however, evidently received instructions 
respecting him, for he was without question at once ushered 
into the room in which the Earl of Wisbech and his daughters 
were sitting. 


NEW FRIENDS 


207 


The Earl shook him warmly by the hand, and then, turning 
to his daughters, said,— 

“This is the gentleman to whom you owe your lives, girls. 
Sir Cyril, these are my daughters — Lady Dorothy, Lady 
Bertha, and Lady Beatrice. It seems somewhat strange to 
have to introduce you, who have saved their lives, to them; 
but you have the advantage of them, for you have seen them 
before, but they have not until now seen your face.” 

Each of the girls as she was named made a deep curtsey, 
and then presented her cheek to be kissed, as was the custom 
of the times. 

“They are somewhat tongue-tied,” the Earl said, smiling, 
as the eldest of the three cast an appealing glance to him, 
“ and have begged me to thank you in their names, which I 
do with all my heart, and beg you to believe that their grati¬ 
tude is none the less deep because they have no words to ex¬ 
press it. They generally have plenty to say, I can assure you, 
and will find their tongues when you are a little better ac¬ 
quainted.” 

“I am most happy to have been of service to you, ladies,” 
Cyril said, bowing deeply to them. “ I can hardly say that I 
have the advantage your father speaks of, for in truth the 
smoke was so thick, and my eyes smarted so with it, that I 
could scarce see your faces.” 

“Their attire, too, in no way helped you,” the Earl said, 
with a laugh, “ for, as I hear, their costume was of the slight¬ 
est. I believe that Dorothy’s chief concern is that she did 
not have time to attire herself in a more becoming toilette 
before the smoke overpowered her.” 

“Now, father,” the girl protested, with a pretty colour in 
her cheeks, “you know I have never said anything of the sort, 
though I did say that I wished I had thrown a cloak round 
me. It is not pleasant, whatever you may think, to know that 
one was handed down a ladder in one’s nightdress.” 

“I don’t care about that a bit,” Beatrice said; “but you 
did not say, father, that it was a young gentleman, no older 


208 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


than Sydney, who found us and carried us out. I had ex¬ 
pected to see a great big man.” 

“I don’t think I said anything about his age, Beatrice, but 
simply told you that I had found out that it was Sir Cyril 
Shenstone that had saved you.” 

“Is the nurse recovering, my Lord?” 

“She is still in bed, and the doctor says she will be some 
time before she quite recovers from the fright and shock. 
They were all sleeping in the storey above. It was Dorothy 
who first woke, and, after waking her sisters, ran into the 
nurse’s room, which was next door, and roused her. The silly 
woman was so frightened that she could do nothing but stand 
at the window and scream until the girls almost dragged her 
away, and forced her to come downstairs. The smoke, how¬ 
ever, was so thick that they could get no farther than the next 
floor; then, guided by the screams of the other servants, they 
opened a door and ran in, but, as you know, it was not the 
room into which the women had gone. The nurse fell down 
in a faint as soon as she got in. The girls, as it seems, 
dragged her as far as they could towards the window, but she 
was too heavy for them; and as they had not shut the door, 
the smoke poured in and overpowered them, and they fell 
beside her. The rest you know. She is a silly woman, and 
she has quite lost my confidence by her folly and cowardice, 
but she has been a good servant, and the girls, all of whom she 
nursed, were fond of her. Still, it is evident that she is not 
to be trusted in an emergency, and it was only because the 
girls’ governess is away on a visit to her mother that she hap¬ 
pened to be left in charge of them. Now, young ladies, you 
can leave us, as I have other matters to talk over with Sir 
Cyril.” 

The three girls curtsied deeply, first to their father, and then 
to Cyril, who held the door for them to pass out. 

“Now, Sir Cyril,” the Earl said, as the door closed behind 
them, “we must have a talk together. You may well believe 
that, after what has happened, I look upon you almost as part 


NEW FRIENDS 


209 


of my family, and that I consider you have given me the right 
to look after your welfare as if you were a near relation of my 
own; and glad I am to have learned yesterday evening that 
you are, in all respects, one whom I might be proud indeed 
to call a kinsman. Had you been a cousin of mine, with 
parents but indifferently off in worldly goods, it would have 
been my duty, of course, to push you forward and to aid you 
in every way to make a proper figure on this expedition. I 
think that, after what has happened, I have equally the right 
to do so, and what would have been my duty, had you been 
a relation, is no less a duty, and will certainly be a great grati¬ 
fication to me to do now. You understand me, do you not? 
I wish to take upon myself all the charges connected with your 
outfit, and to make you an allowance, similar to that which I 
shall give to my son, for your expenses on board ship. All 
this is of course but a slight thing, but, believe me, that when 
the expedition is over it will be my pleasure to help you 
forward to advancement in any course which you may choose.” 

“I thank you most heartily, my Lord,” Cyril said, “and 
would not hesitate to accept your help in the present matter, 
did I need it. However, I have saved some little money 
during the past two years, and Captain Dowsett has most 
generously offered me any sum I may require for my expenses, 
and has consented to allow me to take it as a loan to be repaid 
at some future time, should it be in my power to do so. Your 
offer, however, to aid me in my career afterwards, I most 
thankfully accept. My idea has always been to take service 
under some foreign prince, and Prince Rupert has most kindly 
promised to aid me in that respect; but after serving for a 
time at sea I shall be better enabled to judge than at present 
as to whether that course is indeed the best, and I shall be 
most thankful for your counsel in this and all other matters, 
and feel myself fortunate indeed to have obtained your good 
will and patronage.” 

“Well, if it must be so, it must,” the Earl said. “Your 
friend Captain Dowsett seems to me a very worthy man. You 


210 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


have placed him under an obligation as heavy as my own, and 
he has the first claim to do you service. In this matter, then, 
I must be content to stand aside, but on your return from sea 
it will be my turn, and I shall be hurt and grieved indeed if 
you do not allow me an opportunity of proving my gratitude 
to you. As to the career you speak of, it is a precarious one. 
There are indeed many English and Scotch officers who have 
risen to high rank and honour in foreign service; but to every 
one that so succeeds, how many fall unnoticed, and lie in 
unmarked graves, in well-nigh every country in Europe? 
Were you like so many of your age, bent merely on adventure 
and pleasure, the case would be different, but it is evident 
that you have a clear head for business, that you are steady 
and persevering, and such being the case, there are many 
offices under the Crown in which you might distinguish your¬ 
self and do far better than the vast majority of those who sell 
their swords to foreign princes, and become mere soldiers of 
fortune, fighting for a cause in which they have no interest, 
and risking their lives in quarrels that are neither their own 
nor their country’s. 

“ However, all this we can talk over when you come back 
after having, as I hope, aided in destroying the Dutch Fleet. 
I expect my son up to-morrow, and trust that you will accom¬ 
pany him to the King’s levee, next Monday. Prince Rupert 
tells me that he has already presented you to the King, and 
that you were well received by him, as indeed you had a right 
to be, as the son of a gentleman who had suffered and sacri¬ 
ficed much in the Royal cause. But I will take the oppor¬ 
tunity of introducing you to several other gentlemen who will 
sail with you. On the following day I shall be going down 
into Kent, and shall remain there until it is time for Sydney 
to embark. If you can get your preparations finished by that 
time, I trust that you will give us the pleasure of your com¬ 
pany, and will stay with me until you embark with Sydney. 
In this way you will come to know us better, and to feel, as 
I wish you to feel, as one of the family.” 


NEW FRIENDS 


211 


Cyril gratefully accepted the invitation, and then took his 
leave. 

Captain Dave was delighted when he heard the issue of his 
visit to the Earl. 

“ I should never have forgiven you, lad, if you had accepted 
the Earl’s offer to help you in the matter of this expedition. 
It is no great thing, and comes well within my compass, and I 
should have been sorely hurt had you let him come between us; 
but in the future I can do little, and he much. I have spoken 
to several friends who are better acquainted with public affairs 
than I am, and they all speak highly of him. He holds, for 
the most part, aloof from Court, which is to his credit seeing 
how matters go on there; but he is spoken of as a very worthy 
gentleman and one of merit, who might take a prominent part 
in affairs were he so minded. He has broad estates in Kent 
and Norfolk, and spends the greater part of his life at one or 
other of his country seats. Doubtless, he will be able to 
assist you greatly in the future.” 

“ I did not like to refuse his offer to go down with him to 
Kent,” Cyril said, “though I would far rather have remained 
here with you until we sail.” 

“You did perfectly right, lad. It will cut short your stay 
here but a week, and it would be madness to refuse the 
opportunity of getting to know him and his family better. 
The Countess died three years ago, I hear, and he has shown 
no disposition to take another wife, as he might well do, see¬ 
ing he is but a year or two past forty, and has as pleasant a 
face and manner as I have ever seen. He is not the sort of 
man to promise what he will not perform, Cyril, and more 
than ever do I think that it was a fortunate thing for you that 
John Wilkes fetched you to that fire in the Savoy. And now, 
lad, you have no time to lose. You must come with me at 
once to Master Woods, the tailor, in Eastcheap, who makes 
clothes not only for the citizens but for many of the nobles 
and gallants of the Court. In the first place, you will need a 
fitting dress for the King’s levee; then you will need at least 


212 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


one more suit similar to that you now wear, and three for on 
board ship and for ordinary occasions, made of stout cloth, 
but in the fashion; then you must have helmet, and breast- 
and back-pieces for the fighting, and for these we will go to 
Master Lawrence, the armourer, in Cheapside. All these we 
will order to-day in my name, and put them down in your 
account to me. As to arms, you have your sword, and there 
is but a brace of pistols to be bought. You will want a few 
things such as thick cloaks for sea service; for though I sup¬ 
pose that Volunteers do not keep their watch, you may meet 
with rains and heavy weather, and you will need something 
to keep you dry.” 

They sallied out at once. So the clothes were ordered, and 
the Court suit, with the best of the others promised by the 
end of the week; the armour was fitted on and bought, and a 
stock of fine shirts with ruffles, hose, and shoes, was also pur¬ 
chased. The next day Sydney Oliphant, the Earl’s son, called 
upon Cyril. He was a frank, pleasant young fellow, about a 
year older than Cyril. He was very fond of his sisters, and 
expressed in lively terms his gratitude for their rescue. 

“This expedition has happened in the nick of time for 
me,” he said, when, in accordance with his invitation, Cyril 
and he embarked in the Earl’s boat in which he had been 
rowed to the City, “ for I was in bad odour with the authori¬ 
ties, and was like, erelong, to have been sent home far less 
pleasantly; and although the Earl, my father, is very indul¬ 
gent, he would have been terribly angry with me had it been 
so. To tell you the truth, at the University we are divided 
into two sets — those who read and those who don’t—and on 
joining I found myself very soon among the latter. I don’t 
think it was quite my fault, for I naturally fell in with com¬ 
panions whom I had known before, and it chanced that some 
of these were among the wildest spirits in the University. 

“Of course I had my horses, and, being fond of riding, I 
was more often in the saddle than in my seat in the college 
schools. Then there were constant complaints against us for 


NEW FRIENDS 


213 


sitting up late and disturbing the college with our melodies, 
and altogether we stood in bad odour with the Dons; and 
when they punished us we took our revenge by playing them 
pranks, until lately it became almost open war, and would 
certainly have ended before long in a score or more of us 
being sent down. I should not have minded that myself, but 
it would have grieved the Earl, and I am not one of the new- 
fashioned ones who care naught for what their fathers may 
say. He has been praising you up to the skies this morning, 
I can tell you — I don’t mean only as to the fire but about 
other things — and says he hopes we shall be great friends, 
and I am sure I hope so too, and think so. He had been 
telling me about your finding out about their robbing that 
good old sea-captain you live with, and how you were kid¬ 
napped afterwards, and sent to Holland; and how, in another 
adventure, although he did not tell me how that came about, 
you pricked a ruffling gallant through the shoulder; so that 
you have had a larger share of adventure, by a great deal, than 
I have. I had expected to see you rather a solemn personage, 
for the Earl told me you had more sense in your little finger 
than I had in my whole body, which was not complimentary to 
me, though I dare say it is true.” 

“ Now, as a rule, they say that sensible people are very dis¬ 
agreeable; but I hope I shall not be disagreeable,” Cyril 
laughed, “and I am certainly not aware that I am particularly 
sensible.” 

“No, I am sure you won’t be disagreeable, but I should 
have been quite nervous about coming to see you if it had not 
been for the girls. Little Beatrice told me she thought you 
were a prince in disguise, and had evidently a private idea 
that the good fairies had sent you to her rescue. Bertha said 
that you were a very proper young gentleman, and that she 
was sure you were nice. Dorothy didn’t say much, but she 
evidently approved of the younger girls’ sentiments, so I felt 
that you must be all right, for the girls are generally pretty 
severe critics, and very few of my friends stand at all 


214 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


high in their good graces. What amusement are you most 
fond of?” 

“I am afraid I have had very little time for amusements,” 
Cyril said. “I was very fond of fencing when I was in 
France, but have had no opportunity of practising since I came 
to England. I went to a bull-bait once, but thought it a 
cruel sport.” 

“I suppose you go to a play-house sometimes? ” 

“No; I have never been inside one. A good deal of my 
work has been done in the evening, and I don’t know that the 
thought ever occurred to me to go. I know nothing of your 
English sports, and neither ride nor shoot, except with a 
pistol, with which I used to be a good shot when I was in 
France.” 

They rowed down as low as Greenwich, then, as the tide 
turned, made their way back; and by the time Cyril alighted 
from the boat at London Bridge stairs the two young fellows 
had become quite intimate with each other. 

Nellie looked with great approval at Cyril as he came down¬ 
stairs in a full Court dress. Since the avowal she had made 
of her fault she had recovered much of her brightness. She 
bustled about the house, intent upon the duties she had newly 
taken up, to the gratification of Mrs. Dowsett, who protested 
that her occupation was gone. 

“Not at all, mother. It is only that you are now captain 
of the ship, and have got to give your orders instead of carry¬ 
ing them out yourself. Father did not pull up the ropes or 
go aloft to furl the sails, while I have no doubt he had plenty 
to do in seeing that his orders were carried out. You will be 
worse off than he was, for he had John Wilkes, and others, 
who knew their duty, while I have got almost everything to 
learn.” 

Although her cheerfulness had returned, and she could 
again be heard singing snatches of song about the house, her 
voice and manner were gentler and softer, and Captain Dave 
said to Cyril,— 


NEW FRIENDS 


215 


“ It has all turned out for the best, lad. The ship was very 
near wrecked, but the lesson has been a useful one, and there 
is no fear of her being lost from want of care or good sea¬ 
manship in future. I feel, too, that I have been largely to 
blame in the matter. I spoilt her as a child, and I spoilt her 
all along. Her mother would have kept a firmer hand upon 
the helm if I had not always spoken up for the lass, and said, 
‘Let her have her head; don’t check the sheets in too tautly.’ 

I see I was wrong now. Why, lad, what a blessing it is to us 
all that it happened when it did! for if that fire had been but 
a month earlier, you would probably have gone away with 
the Earl, and we should have known nothing of Nellie’s peril 
until we found that she was gone.” 

“Sir Cyril — no, I really cannot call you Cyril now,” Nellie 
said, curtseying almost to the ground after taking a survey of 
the lad, “your costume becomes you rarely; and I am filled 
with wonder at the thought of my own stupidity in not seeing 
all along that you were a prince in disguise. It is like the 
fairy tales my old nurse used to tell me of the king’s son who 
went out to look for a beautiful wife, and who worked as a 
scullion in the king’s palace without anyone suspecting his 
rank. I think fortune has been very hard upon me, in that I 
was born five years too soon. Had I been but fourteen in 
stead of nineteen, your Royal Highness might have cast 
favourable eyes upon me.” 

“But then, Mistress Nellie,” Cyril said, laughing, “you 
would be filled with grief now at the thought that I am going 
away to the wars.” 

The girl’s face changed. She dropped her saucy manner 
and said earnestly,— 

“I am grieved, Cyril; and if it would do any good I would 
sit down and have a hearty cry. The Dutchmen are brave 
fighters, and their fleet will be stronger than ours; and there 
will be many who sail away to sea who will never come back 
again. I have never had a brother; but it seems to me that 
if I had had one who was wise, and thoughtful, and brave, I 


216 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


should have loved him as I love you. I think the princess 
must always have felt somehow that the scullion was not what 
he seemed; and though I have always laughed at you and 
scolded you, I have known all along that you were not really 
a clerk. I don’t know that I thought you were a prince; but 
I somehow felt a little afraid of you. You never said that 
you thought me vain and giddy, but I knew you did think so, 
and I used to feel a little malice against you; and yet, some¬ 
how, I respected and liked you all the more, and now it seems 
to me that you are still in disguise, and that, though you seem 
to be but a boy, you are really a man to whom some good 
fairy has given a boy’s face. Methinks no boy could be as 
thoughtful and considerate, and as kind as you are.” 

“You are exaggerating altogether,” Cyril said; “and yet, 
in what you say about my age, I think you are partly right. I 
have lived most of my life alone; I have had much care 
always on my shoulders, and grave responsibility; thus it is 
that I am older in many ways than I should be at my years. 
I would it were not so. I have not had any boyhood, as other 
boys have, and I think it has been a great misfortune for me.” 

“It has not been a misfortune for us, Cyril; it has been a 
blessing indeed to us all that you have not been quite like 
other boys, and I think that all your life it will be a satisfac¬ 
tion for you to know that you have saved one house from 
ruin, one woman from misery and disgrace. Now it is time 
for you to be going; but although you are leaving us to¬ 
morrow, Cyril, I hope that you are not going quite out of our 
lives.” 

“That you may be sure I am not, Nellie. If you have 
reason to be grateful to me, truly I have much reason to be 
grateful to your father. I have never been so happy as since 
I have been in this house, and I shall always return to it as to 
a home where I am sure of a welcome — as the place to which 
I chiefly owe any good fortune that may ever befall me.” 

The levee was a brilliant one, and was attended, in addition 
to the usual throng of courtiers, by most of the officers and 


NEW FRIENDS 


217 


gentlemen who were going with the Fleet. Cyril was glad 
indeed that he was with the Earl of Wisbech and his son, for 
he would have felt lonely and out of place in the brilliant 
throng, in which Prince Rupert’s face would have been the 
only one with which he was familiar. The Earl introduced 
him to several of the gentlemen who would be his shipmates, 
and by all he was cordially received when the Earl named 
him as the gentleman who had rescued his daughters from 
death. 

At times, when the Earl was chatting with his friends, Cyril 
moved about through the rooms with Sydney, who knew by 
appearance a great number of those present, and was able to 
point out all the distinguished persons of the Court to him. 

“There is the Prince,” he said, “talking with the Earl of 
Rochester. What a grave face he has now! It is difficult to 
believe that he is the Rupert of the' wars, and the headstrong 
prince whose very bravery helped to lose well-nigh as many 
battles as he won. We may be sure that he will take us 'into 
the very thick of the fight, Cyril. Even now his wrist is as 
firm, and, I doubt not, his arm as strong as when he led the 
Cavaliers. I have seen him in the tennis-court; there is not 
one at the Court, though many are well-nigh young enough to 
be his sons, who is his match at tennis. There is the Duke 
of York. They say he is a Catholic, but I own that makes no 
difference to me. He is fond of the sea, and is never so 
happy as when he is on board ship, though you would hardly 
think it by his grave face. The King is fond of it, too. He 
has a pleasure vessel that is called a yacht, and so has the 
Duke of York, and they have races one against the other; but 
the King generally wins. He is making it a fashionable 
pastime. Some day I will have one myself — that is, if I find 
I like the sea; for it must be pleasant to sail about in your 
own vessel, and to go wheresoever one may fancy without 
asking leave from any man.” 

When it came to his turn Cyril passed before the King with 
the Earl and his son. The Earl presented Sydney, who had 


218 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


not before been at Court, to the King, mentioning that he was 
going out as a Volunteer in Prince Rupert’s vessel. 

“That is as it should be, my Lord,” the King said. “Eng¬ 
land need never fear so long as her nobles and gentlemen are 
ready themselves to go out to fight her battles, and to set an 
example to the seamen. You need not present this young 
gentleman to me; my cousin Rupert has already done so, and 
told - me of the service he has rendered to your daughters. 
He, too, sails with the Prince, and after what happened there 
can be no doubt that he can stand fire well. I would that this 
tiresome dignity did not prevent my being of the party. I 
would gladly, for once, lay my kingship down and go out as 
one of the company to help give the Dutchmen a lesson that 
will teach, them that, even if caught unexpectedly, the sea- 
dogs of England can well hold their own, though they have 
no longer a Blake to command them.” 

“I wonder that the King ventures to use Blake’s name,” 
Sydney whispered, as they moved away, “considering the 
indignities that he allowed the judges to inflict on the body 
of the grand old sailor.” 

“It was scandalous!” Cyril said warmly; “and I burned 
with indignation when I heard of it in France. They may 
call him a traitor because he sided with the Parliament, but 
even Royalists should never have forgotten what great deeds 
he did for England. However, though they might have dis¬ 
honoured his body, they could not touch his fame, and his 
name will be known and honoured as long as England is a 
nation and when the names of the men who condemned him 
have been long forgotten.” 

After leaving the levee, Cyril went back to the City, and 
the next morning started on horseback, with the Earl and his 
son, to the latter’s seat, near Sevenoaks, the ladies having 
gone down in the Earl’s coach on the previous day. Wholly 
unaccustomed as Cyril was to riding, he was so stiff that he 
had difficulty in dismounting when they rode up to the man¬ 
sion. The Earl had provided a quiet and well-trained horse 


NEW FRIENDS 


219 


for his use, and he had therefore found no difficulty in retain¬ 
ing his seat. 

“You must ride every day while you are down here,” the 
Earl said, “and by the end of the week you will begin to be 
fairly at home in the saddle. A good seat is one of the prime 
necessities of a gentleman’s education, and if ft should be 
that you ever carry out your idea of taking service abroad it 
will be essential for you, because, in most cases, the officers 
are mounted. You can hardly expect ever to become a brill¬ 
iant rider. For that it is necessary to begin young; but if 
you can keep your seat under all circumstances, and be able 
to use your sword on horseback, as well as on foot, it will be 
all that is needful.” 

The week passed very pleasantly. Cyril rode and fenced 
daily with Sydney, who was surprised to find that he was fully 
his match with the sword. He walked in the gardens with 
the girls, who had now quite recovered from the effects of the 
fire. Bertha and Beatrice, being still children, chatted with 
him as freely and familiarly as they did with Sydney. Of 
Lady Dorothy he saw less, as she was in charge of her gouvern - 
ante , who always walked beside her, and was occupied in 
training her into the habits of preciseness and decorum in 
vogue at the time. 

“I do believe, Dorothy,” Sydney said, one day, “that you 
are forgetting how to laugh. You walk like a machine, and 
seem afraid to move your hands or your feet except according 
to rule. I like you very much better as you were a year ago, 
when you did not think yourself too fine for a romp, and could 
laugh when you were pleased. That dragon of yours is spoil¬ 
ing you altogether.” 

“That is a matter of opinion, Sydney,” Dorothy said, with 
a deep curtsey. “When you first began to fence, I have no 
doubt you were stiff and awkward, and I am sure if you had 
always had someone by your side, saying, ‘ Keep your head 
up! ’ ‘Don’t poke your chin forward ! ’ ‘Pray do not swing 
your arms! ’ and that sort of thing, you would be just as awk- 


220 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


ward as I feel. I am sure I would rather run about with the 
others; the process of being turned into a young lady is not 
a pleasant one. But perhaps some day, when you see the 
finished article, you will be pleased to give your Lordship’s 
august approval,” and she ended with a merry laugh that 
would have shocked her gouvernante if she had heard it. 




CHAPTER XIII 


THE BATTLE OF LOWESTOFT 


T'HE Earl returned with his son and Cyril to town, and the 
' latter spent the night in the City. 

“I do not know, Cyril,” Captain Dave said, as they talked 
over his departure, “that you run much greater risk in going 
than do we in staying here. The Plague makes progress, and 
although it has not invaded the City, we can hardly hope that 
it will be long before it appears here. There are many evil 
prophecies abroad, and it is the general opinion that a great 
misfortune hangs over us, and they say that many have pre¬ 
pared to leave London. I have talked the matter over with 
my wife. We have not as yet thought of going, but should 
the Plague come heavily, it may be that we shall for a time 
go away. There will be no business to be done, for vessels 
will not come up the Thames and risk infection, nor, indeed, 
would they be admitted into ports, either in England or 
abroad, after coming from an infected place. Therefore I 
could leave without any loss in the way of trade. It will, of 
course, depend upon the heaviness of the malady, but if it 
becomes widespread we shall perhaps go for a visit to my 
wife’s cousin, who lives near Gloucester, and who has many 
times written to us urging us to go down with Nellie for a 
visit to her. Hitherto, business has prevented my going, but 
if all trade ceases, it would be a good occasion for us, and 
such as may never occur again. Still, I earnestly desire that 
it may not arise, for it cannot do so without sore trouble and 

221 










222 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


pain alighting on the City. Did the Earl tell you, Cyril, 
what he has done with regard to John? ” 

“No; he did not speak to me on the subject.” 

“ His steward came here three days since with a gold watch 
and chain, as a gift from the Earl. The watch has an inscrip¬ 
tion on the case, saying that it is presented to John Wilkes 
from the Earl of Wisbech, as a memorial of his gratitude for 
the great services rendered to his daughters. Moreover, he 
brought a letter from the Earl saying that if John should at 
any time leave my service, owing to my death or retirement 
from business, or from John himself wishing, either from age 
or other reason, to leave me, he would place at his service a 
cottage and garden on his estate, and a pension of twenty 
pounds a year, to enable him to live in comfort for the re¬ 
mainder of his days. John is, as you may suppose, mightily 
pleased, for though I would assuredly never part with him as 
long as I live, and have by my will made provision that will 
keep him from want in case I die before him, it was mighty 
pleasant to receive so handsome a letter and offer of service 
from the Earl. Nellie wrote for him a letter in which he 
thanked the Earl for the kindness of his offer, for which, 
although he hoped he should never be forced to benefit from 
it, he was none the less obliged and grateful, seeing that he had 
done nothing that any other bystander would not have done, 
to deserve it.” 

Early the next morning Sydney Oliphant rode up to the 
door, followed by two grooms, one of whom had a led horse, 
and the other a sumpter-mule, which was partly laden. Cap¬ 
tain Dave went down with Cyril to the door. 

“I pray you to enter, my Lord,” he said. “My wife will 
not be happy unless you take a cup of posset before you start. 
Moreover, she and my daughter desire much to see you, as 
you are going to sail with Sir Cyril, whom we regard as a 
member of our family.” 

“I will come up right willingly,” the young noble said, 
leaping lightly from his horse. “If your good dame’s posset 



“THIS IS MY PRINCE OF SCRIVENERS, MARY, 





























































































. 







































































































































































THE BATTLE OF LOWESTOFT 


223 


is as good as the wine the Earl, my father, tells me you gave 
him, it must be good indeed; for he told me he believed he 
had none in his cellar equal to it.” 

He remained for a few minutes upstairs, chatting gaily, 
vowing that the posset was the best he had ever drank, and 
declaring to Nellie that he regarded as a favourable omen for 
his expedition that he should have seen so fair a face the last 
thing before starting. He shook hands with John Wilkes 
heartily when he came up to say that Cyril’s valises were all 
securely packed on the horses, and then went off, promising 
to send Captain Dave a runnet of the finest schiedam from 
the Dutch Admiral’s ship. 

“Truly, I am thankful you came up,” Cyril said, as they 
mounted and rode off. “ Before you came we were all dull, 
and the Dame and Mistress Nellie somewhat tearful. Now 
we have gone off amidst smiles, which is vastly more pleasant.” 

Crossing London Bridge, they rode through Southwark, and 
then out into the open country. Each had a light valise 
strapped behind the saddle, and the servants had saddle-bags 
containing the smaller articles of luggage, while the sumpter- 
mule carried two trunks with their clothes and sea necessaries. 
It was late in the evening when they arrived at Chatham. 
Here they put up at an hotel which was crowded with officers 
of the Fleet, and with Volunteers like themselves. 

“I should grumble at these quarters, Cyril,” Sydney said, 
as the landlord, with many apologies, showed them into a tiny 
attic, which was the only place he had unoccupied, “were it 
not that we are going to sea to-morrow, and I suppose that 
our quarters will be even rougher there. However, we may 
have elbow-room for a time, for most of the Volunteers will 
not join, I hear, until the last thing before the Fleet sails, and 
it may be a fortnight yet before all the ships are collected. I 
begged my father to let me do the same, but he goes back 
again to-day to Sevenoaks, and he liked not the idea of my 
staying in town, seeing that the Plague is spreading so rapidly. 
I would even have stayed in the country had he let me, but he 


224 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


was of opinion Hhat I was best on board — in the first place, 
because I may not get news down there in time to join the 
Fleet before it sails, and in the second, that I might come to 
get over this sickness of the sea, and so be fit and able to do 
my part when we meet the Dutch. This was so reasonable 
that I could urge nothing against it; for, in truth, it would 
be a horrible business if I were lying like a sick dog, unable 
to lift my head, while our men were fighting the Dutch. I 
have never been to sea, and know not how I shall bear it. 
Are you a good sailor? ” 

“Yes; I used to go out very often in a fishing-boat at Dun¬ 
kirk, and never was ill from the first. Many people are not 
ill at all, and it will certainly be of an advantage to you to be 
on board for a short time in quiet waters before setting out 
for sea.” 

On going downstairs, Lord Oliphant found several young 
men of his acquaintance among those staying in the house. 
He introduced Cyril to them. But the room was crowded 
and noisy; many of those present had drunk more than was 
good for them, and it was not long before Cyril told his friend 
that he should go up to bed. 

“I am not accustomed to noisy parties, Sydney, and feel 
quite confused with all this talk.” 

“You will soon get accustomed to it, Cyril. Still, do as 
you like. I dare say I shall not be very long before I follow 
you.” 

The next morning after breakfast they went down to the 
quay, and took a boat to the ship, which was lying abreast of 
the dockyard. The captain, on their giving their names, 
consulted the list. 

“ That is right, gentlemen, though indeed I know not why 
you should have come down until we are ready to sail, which 
may not be for a week or more, though we shall go out from 
here to-morrow and join those lying in the Hope; for indeed 
you can be of no use while we are fitting, and would but do 
damage to your clothes and be in the way of the sailors. It 


THE BATTLE OF LOWESTOFT 


225 


is but little accommodation you will find on board here, 
though we will do the best we can for you.” 

“We do not come about accommodation, captain,” Lord 
Oliphant laughed, “ and we have brought down gear with us 
that will not soil, or rather, that cannot be the worse for soil¬ 
ing. There are three or four others at the inn where we 
stopped last night who are coming on board, but I hear that 
the rest of the Volunteers will probably join when the Fleet 
assembles in Yarmouth roads.” 

“Then they must be fonder of journeying on horseback 
than I am,” the captain said. “While we are in the Hope, 
where, indeed, for aught I know, we may tarry but a day or 
two, they could come down by boat conveniently without 
trouble, whereas to Yarmouth it is a very long ride, with the 
risk of losing their purses to the gentlemen of the road. 
Moreover, though the orders are at present that the Fleet 
gather at Yarmouth, and many are already there, ’tis like that 
it may be changed in a day for Harwich or the Downs. I 
pray you get your meals at your inn to-day, for we are, as 
you see, full of work taking on board stores. If it please you 
to stay and watch what is doing here you are heartily wel¬ 
come, but please tell the others that they had best not come 
off until late in the evening, by which time I will do what I 
can to have a place ready for them to sleep. We shall sail at 
the turn of the tide, which will be at three o’clock in the 
morning.” 

Oliphant wrote a few lines to the gentlemen on shore, tell¬ 
ing them that the captain desired that none should come on 
board until the evening, and having sent it off by their boat¬ 
men, telling them to return in time to take them back to 
dinner, he and Cyril mounted to the poop and surveyed the 
scene round them. The ship was surrounded with lighters 
and boats from the dockyards, and from these casks and 
barrels, boxes and cases, were being swung on board by 
blocks from the yards, or rolled in at the port-holes. A large 
number of men were engaged at the work, and as fast as the 

p 


226 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


stores came on board they were seized by the sailors and 
carried down into the hold, the provisions piled in tiers of 
barrels, the powder-kegs packed in the magazine. 

“ ’Tis like an ant-hill,” Cyril said. “ ’Tis just as I have 
seen when a nest has been disturbed. Every ant seizes a 
white egg as big as itself, and rushes off with it to the passage 
below.” 

“They work bravely,” his companion said. “Every man 
seems to know that it is important that the ship should be 
filled up by to-night. See ! the other four vessels lying above 
us are all alike at work, and may, perhaps, start with us in 
the morning. The other ships are busy, too, but not as we 
are. I suppose they will take them in hand when they have 
got rid of us.” 

“ I am not surprised that the captain does not want idlers 
here, for, except ourselves, every man seems to have his ap¬ 
pointed work.” 

“ I feel half inclined to take off my doublet and to go and 
help to roll those big casks up the planks.” 

“I fancy, Sydney, we should be much more in the way 
there than here. There is certainly no lack of men, and your 
strength and mine together would not equal that of one of 
those strong fellows; besides, we are learning something here. 
It is good to see how orderly the work is being carried on, 
for, in spite of the number employed, there is no confusion. 
You see there are three barges on each side; the upper tiers 
of barrels and bales are being got on board through the port¬ 
holes, while the lower ones are fished up from the bottom by 
the ropes from the yards and swung into the waist, and so 
passed below; and as fast as one barge is unloaded another 
drops alongside to take its place.” 

They returned to the inn to dinner, after which they paid 
a visit to the victualling yard and dockyard, where work was 
everywhere going on. After supper they, with the other 
gentlemen for Prince Rupert’s ship, took boat and went off 
together. They had learned that, while they would be vict- 


THE BATTLE OF LOWESTOFT 


227 


ualled on board, they must take with them wine and other 
matters they required over and above the ship’s fare. They 
had had a consultation with the other gentlemen after dinner, 
and concluded that it would be best to take but a small quan¬ 
tity of things, as they knew not how they would be able to 
stow them away, and would have opportunities of getting, at 
Gravesend or at Yarmouth, further stores, when they saw what 
things were required. They therefore took only a cheese, 
some butter, and a case of wine. As soon as they got on 
board they were taken below. They found that a curtain of 
sail-cloth had been hung across the main deck, and hammocks 
slung between the guns. Three or four lanterns were hung 
along the middle. 

“This is all we can do for you, gentlemen,” the officer who 
conducted them down said. “ Had we been going on a pleas¬ 
ure trip we could have knocked up separate cabins, but as we 
must have room to work the guns, this cannot be done. In 
the morning the sailors will take down these hammocks, and 
will erect a table along the middle, where you will take your 
meals. At present, as you see, we have only slung hammocks 
for you, but when you all come on board there will be twenty. 
We have, so far, only a list of sixteen, but as the Prince said 
that two or three more might come at the last moment we 
have railed off space enough for ten hammocks on each side. 
We will get the place cleaned for you to-morrow, but the last 
barge was emptied but a few minutes since, and we could do 
naught but just sweep the deck down. To-morrow every¬ 
thing shall be Scrubbed and put in order.” 

“It will do excellently well,” one of the gentlemen said. 
“ We have not come on board ship to get luxuries, and had 
we to sleep on the bare boards you would hear no grum¬ 
bling.” 

“Now, gentlemen, as I have shown you your quarters, will 
you come up with me to the captain’s cabin? He has bade 
me say that he will be glad if you will spend an hour with him 
there before you retire to rest.” 


228 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


On their entering, the captain shook hands with Lord 
Oliphant and Cyril. 

“I must apologise, gentlemen, for being short with you 
when you came on board this morning; but my hands were 
full, and I had no time to be polite. They say you can never 
get a civil answer from a housewife on her washing-day, and 
it is the same thing with an officer on board a ship when she 
is taking in her stores. However, that business is over, and 
now I am glad to see you all, and will do my best to make 
you as comfortable as I can, which indeed will not be much; 
for as we shall, I hope, be going into action in the course of 
another ten days, the decks must all be kept clear, and as we 
have the Prince on board, we have less cabin room than we 
should have were we not an admiral’s flagship.” 

Wine was placed on the table, and they had a pleasant chat. 
They learnt that the Fleet was now ready for sea. 

“Four ships will sail with ours to-morrow,” the captain 
said, “ and the other five will be off the next morning. They 
have all their munitions on board, and will take in the rest of 
their provisions to-morrow. The Dutch had thought to take 
us by surprise, but from what we hear they are not so forward 
as we, for things have been pushed on with great zeal at all 
our ports, the war being generally popular with the nation, 
and especially with the merchants, whose commerce has been 
greatly injured by the pretensions and violence of the Dutch. 
The Portsmouth ships, and those from Plymouth, are already 
on their way round to the mouth of the Thames, and in a 
week we may be at sea. I only hope the Dutch will not be 
long before they come out to fight us. However, we are 
likely to pick up a great many prizes, and, next to fighting, 
you know, sailors like prize-money.” 

After an hour’s talk the five gentlemen went below to their 
hammocks, and then to bed, with much laughter at the diffi¬ 
culty they had in mounting into their swinging cots. 

It was scarce daylight when they were aroused by a great 
stir on board the ship, and, hastily putting on their clothes, 


THE BATTLE OF LOWESTOFT 


229 


went on deck. Already a crowd of men were aloft loosening 
the sails. Others had taken their places in boats in readiness 
to tow the ship, for the wind was, as yet, so light that it was 
like she would scarce have steerage way, and there were many 
sharp angles in the course down the river to be rounded, and 
shallows to be avoided. A few minutes later the moorings 
were cast off, the sails sheeted home, and the crew gave a 
great cheer, which was answered from the dockyard, and from 
boats alongside, full of the relations and friends of the sailors, 
who stood up and waved their hats and shouted good bye. 

The sails still hung idly, but the tide swept the ship along, 
and the men in the boats ahead simply lay on their oars until 
the time should come to pull her head round in one direction 
or another. They had not long to wait, for, as they reached 
the sharp corner at the end of the reach, orders were shouted, 
the men bent to their oars, and the vessel was taken round the 
curve until her head pointed east. Scarcely had they got 
under way when they heard the cheer from the ship astern of 
them, and by the time they had reached the next curve, off 
the village of Gillingham, the other four ships had rounded 
the point behind them, and were following at a distance of 
about a hundred yards apart. Soon afterwards the wind 
sprang up and the sails bellied out, and the men in the 
boats had to row briskly to keep ahead of the ship. The 
breeze continued until they passed Sheerness, and presently 
they dropped anchor inside the Nore sands. There they 
remained until the tide turned, and then sailed up the Thames 
to the Hope, where some forty men-of-war were already at 
anchor. 

The next morning some barges arrived from Tilbury, laden 
with soldiers, of whom a hundred and fifty came on board, 
their quarters being on the main deck on the other side of 
the canvas division. A cutter also brought down a number 
of impressed men, twenty of whom were put on board the 
He7irietta to complete her crew. Cyril was standing on the 
poop watching them come on board, when he started as his 


230 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


eye fell on two of their number. One was Robert Ashford; 
the other was Black Dick. They had doubtless returned from 
Holland when war was declared. Robert Ashford had as¬ 
sumed the dress of a sailor the better to disguise himself, and 
the two had been carried off together from some haunt of sailors 
at Wapping. He pointed them out to his friend Sydney. 

“So those are the two scamps? The big one looks a trucu¬ 
lent ruffian. Well, they can do you no harm here, Cyril. I 
should let them stay and do their share of the fighting, and 
then, when the voyage is over, if they have not met with a 
better death than they deserve at the hands of the Dutch, you 
can, if you like, denounce them, and have them handed over 
to the City authorities.” 

“ That I will do, as far as the big ruffian they call Black 
Dick is concerned. He is a desperate villain, and for aught 
I know may have committed many a murder, and if allowed 
to go free might commit many more. Besides, I shall never 
feel quite safe as long as he is at large. As to Robert Ash¬ 
ford, he is a knave, but I know no worse of him, and will 
therefore let him go his way.” 

In the evening the other ships from Chatham came up, and 
the captain told them later that the Earl of Sandwich, who 
was in command, would weigh anchor in the morning, as the 
contingent from London, Chatham, and Sheerness was now 
complete. Cyril thought that he had never seen a prettier 
sight, as the Fleet, consisting of fifty men-of-war, of various 
sizes, and eight merchant vessels that had been bought and 
converted into fire-ships, got under way and sailed down 
the river. That night they anchored off Felixstowe, and the 
next day proceeded, with a favourable wind, to Yarmouth, 
where already a great number of ships were at anchor. So 
far the five Volunteers had taken their meals with the captain, 
but as the others would be coming on board, they were now 
to mess below, getting fresh meat and vegetables from the 
shore as they required them. As to other stores, they resolved 
to do nothing till the whole party arrived. 


THE BATTLE OF LOWESTOFT 


231 


They had not long to wait, for, on the third day after their 
arrival, the Duke of York and Prince Rupert, with a great 
train of gentlemen, arrived in the town, and early the next 
morning embarked on board their respective ships. A coun¬ 
cil was held by the Volunteers in their quarters, three of their 
number were chosen as caterers, and, a contribution of three 
pounds a head being agreed upon, these went ashore in one 
of the ship’s boats, and returned presently with a barrel or 
two of good biscuits, the carcasses of five sheep, two or three 
score of ducks and chickens, and several casks of wine, to¬ 
gether with a large quantity of vegetables. The following 
morning the signal was hoisted on the mast-head of the Royal 
Charles , the Duke of York’s flagship, for the Fleet to prepare 
to weigh anchor, and they presently got under way in three 
squadrons, the red under the special orders of the Duke, the 
white under Prince Rupert, and the blue under the Earl of 
Sandwich. 

The Fleet consisted of one hundred and nine men-of-war 
and frigates, and twenty-eight fire-ships and ketches, manned 
by 21,006 seamen and soldiers. They sailed across to the 
coast of Holland, and cruised, for a few days, off Texel, cap¬ 
turing ten or twelve merchant vessels that tried to run in. So 
far, the weather had been very fine, but there were now signs 
of a change of weather. The sky became overcast, the wind 
rose rapidly, and the signal was made for the Fleet to scatter, 
so that each vessel should have more sea-room, and the chance 
of collision be avoided. By nightfall the wind had increased 
to the force of a gale, and the vessels were soon labouring 
heavily. Cyril and two or three of his comrades who, like 
himself, did not suffer from sickness, remained on deck; the 
rest were prostrate below. 

For forty-eight hours the gale continued, and when it abated 
and the ships gradually closed up round the three admirals’ 
flags, it was found that many had suffered sorely in the gale. 
Some had lost their upper spars, others had had their sails 
blown away, some their bulwarks smashed in, and two or three 


232 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


had lost their bowsprits. There was a consultation between 
the admirals and the principal captains, and it was agreed 
that it was best to sail back to England for repairs, as many 
of the ships were unfitted to take their place in line of battle, 
and as the Dutch Fleet w T as known to be fully equal to their 
own in strength, it would have been hazardous to risk an 
engagement. So the ketches and some of the light frigates 
were at once sent off to find the ships that had not yet joined, 
and give them orders to make for Yarmouth, Lowestoft, or 
Harwich. All vessels uninjured were to gather off Lowestoft, 
while the others were to make for the other ports, repair their 
damages as speedily as possible, and then rejoin at Lowestoft. 

No sooner did the Dutch know that the English Fleet had 
sailed away than they put their fleet to sea. It consisted of 
one hundred and twelve men-of-war, and thirty fire-ships, and 
small craft manned by 22,365 soldiers and sailors. It was 
commanded by Admiral Obdam, having under him Tromp, 
Evertson, and other Dutch admirals. On their nearing Eng¬ 
land they fell in with nine ships from Hamburg, with rich 
cargoes, and a convoy of a thirty-four gun frigate. These 
they captured, to the great loss of the merchants of London. 

The Henrietta had suffered but little in the storm, and 
speedily repaired her damages without going into port. With 
so much haste and energy did the crews of the injured ships 
set to work at refitting them, that in four days after the main 
body had anchored off Lowestoft, they were rejoined by all 
the ships that had made for Harwich and Yarmouth. 

At midnight on June 2nd, a fast-sailing fishing-boat brought 
in the news that the Dutch Fleet were but a few miles away, 
sailing in that direction, having apparently learnt the position 
of the English from some ship or fishing-boat they had cap¬ 
tured. 

The trumpets on the admiral’s ship at once sounded, and 
Prince Rupert and the Earl of Sandwich immediately rowed 
to her. They remained but a few minutes, and on their re¬ 
turn to their respective vessels made the signals for their cap- 


THE BATTLE OF LOWESTOFT 


233 


tains to come on board. The order, at such an hour, was 
sufficient to notify all that news must .have been received 
of the whereabouts of the Dutch Fleet, and by the time the 
captains returned to their ships the crews were all up and ready 
to execute any order. At two o’clock day had begun to break, 
and soon from the mastheads of several of the vessels the 
look-out shouted that they could perceive the Dutch Fleet but 
four miles away. A mighty cheer rose throughout the Fleet, 
and as it subsided a gun from the Royal Charles gave the 
order to weigh anchor, and a few minutes later the three 
squadrons, in excellent order, sailed out to meet the enemy. 

They did not, however, advance directly towards them, but 
bore up closely into the wind until they had gained the 
weather gauge of the enemy. Having obtained this advan¬ 
tage, the Duke flew the signal to engage. The Volunteers 
were all in their places on the poop, being posted near the 
rail forward, that they might be able either to run down the 
ladder to the waist and aid to repel boarders, or to spring on 
to a Dutch ship should one come alongside, and also that the 
afterpart of the poop, where Prince Rupert and the captain 
had taken their places near the wheel, should be free. The 
Prince himself had requested them so to station themselves. 

“ At other times, gentlemen, you are my good friends and 
comrades,” he said, “but, from the moment that the first gun 
fires, you are soldiers under my orders; and I pray you take 
your station and remain there until I call upon you for action, 
for my whole attention must be given to the manoeuvring of the 
ship, and any movement or talking near me might distract my 
thoughts. I shall strive to lay her alongside of the biggest Dutch¬ 
man I can pick out, and as soon as the grapnels are thrown, 
and their sides grind together, you will have the post of hon¬ 
our, and will lead the soldiers aboard her. Once among the 
Dutchmen, you will know what to do without my telling you.” 

“ ’Tis a grand sight, truly, Cyril,” Sydney said, in a low 
tone, as the great fleets met each other. 

“A grand sight, truly, Sydney, but a terrible one. I do 


234 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


not think I shall mind when I am once at it, but at present 
I feel that, despite my efforts, I am in a tremor, and that my 
knees shake as I never felt them before.” 

“I am glad you feel like that, Cyril, for I feel much like it 
myself, and began to be afraid that I had, without knowing 
it, been born a coward. There goes the first gun.” 

As he spoke, a puff of white smoke spouted out from the bows 
of one of the Dutch ships, and a moment later the whole of their 
leading vessels opened fire. There was a rushing sound over¬ 
head, and a ball passed through the main topsail of the Hen¬ 
rietta. No reply was made by the English ships until they 
passed in between the Dutchmen; then the Henrietta poured 
her broadsides into the enemy on either side of her, receiving 
theirs in return. There was a rending of wood, and a quiver 
through the ship. One of the upper-deck guns was knocked 
off its carriage, crushing two of the men working it as it fell. 
Several others were hurt with splinters, and the sails pierced 
with holes. Again and again as she passed, did the He?irietia 
exchange broadsides with the Dutch vessels, until — the two 
fleets having passed through each other — she bore up, and 
prepared to repeat the manoeuvre. 

“I feel all right now,” Cyril said, “but I do wish I had 
something to do instead of standing here useless. I quite 
envy the men there, stripped to the waist, working the guns. 
There is that fellow Black Dick, by the gun forward; he is a 
scoundrel, no doubt, but what strength and power he has! I 
saw him put his shoulder under that gun just now, and slew it 
across by sheer strength, so as to bear upon the stern of the 
Dutchman. I noticed him and Robert looking up at me just 
before the first gun was fired, and speaking together. I have 
no doubt he would gladly have pointed the gun at me instead 
of at the enemy, for he knows that, if I denounce him, he will 
get the due reward of his crimes.” 

As soon as the ships were headed round they passed through 
the Dutch as before, and this manoeuvre was several times 
repeated. Up to one o’clock in the day no great advantage 


THE BATTLE OF LOWESTOFT 


235 


had been* gained on either side. Spars had been carried 
away; there were yawning gaps in the bulwarks; portholes 
had been knocked into one, guns dismounted, and many 
killed; but as yet no vessel on either side had been damaged 
to an extent that obliged her to strike her flag, or to fall out 
of the fighting line. There had been a pause after each en¬ 
counter, in which both fleets had occupied themselves in 
repairing damages, as far as possible, reeving fresh ropes in 
place of those that had been shot away, clearing the wreckage 
of fallen spars and yards, and carrying the wounded below. 
Four of the Volunteers had been struck down — two of them 
mortally wounded, but after the first passage through the 
enemy’s fleet, Prince Rupert had ordered them to arm them¬ 
selves with muskets from the racks, and to keep up a fire at 
the Dutch ships as they passed, aiming specially at the man 
at the wheel. The order had been a very welcome one, for, 
like Cyril, they had all felt inactivity in such a scene to be a 
sore trial. They were now ranged along on both sides of the 
poop. 

At one o’clock Lord Sandwich signalled to the Blue Squad¬ 
ron to close up together as they advanced, as before, against 
the enemy’s line. His position at the time was in the centre, 
and his squadron, sailing close together, burst into the Dutch 
line before their ships could make any similar disposition. 
Having thus broken it asunder, instead of passing through 
it, the squadron separated, and the ships, turning to port and 
starboard, each engaged an enemy. The other two squadrons 
similarly ranged up among the Dutch, and the battle now 
became furious all along the line. Fire-ships played an im¬ 
portant part in the battles of the time, and the thoughts of the 
captain of a ship were not confined to struggles with a foe of 
equal size, but were still more engrossed by the need for 
avoiding any fire-ship that might direct its course towards 
him. 

Cyril had now no time to give a thought as to what was 
passing elsewhere. The Henrietta had ranged up alongside 


236 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


a Dutch vessel of equal size, and was exchanging broadsides 
with her. All round were vessels engaged in an equally furi¬ 
ous encounter. The roar of the guns and the shouts of the 
seamen on both sides were deafening. One moment the 
vessel reeled from the recoil of her own guns, the next she 
quivered as the balls of the enemy crashed through her sides. 

Suddenly, above the din, Cyril heard the voice of Prince 
Rupert sound like a trumpet. 

“Hatchets and pikes on the starboard quarter! Draw in 
the guns and keep off this fire-ship.” 

Laying their muskets against the bulwarks, he and Sydney 
sprang to the mizzen-mast, and each seized a hatchet from 
those ranged against it. They then rushed to the starboard 
side, just as a small ship came out through the cloud of smoke 
that hung thickly around them. 

There was a shock as she struck the Henrietta , and then, 
as she glided alongside, a dozen grapnels were thrown by men 
on her yards. The instant they had done so, the men disap¬ 
peared, sliding down the ropes and running aft to their boat. 
Before the last leaped in he stooped. A flash of fire ran along 
the deck, there was a series of sharp explosions, and then a 
bright flame sprang up from the hatchways, ran up the shrouds 
and ropes, that had been soaked with oil and tar, and in a 
moment the sails were on fire. In spite of the flames, a score 
of men sprang on to the rigging of the Henrietta and cut the t 
ropes of the grapnels, which, as yet — so quickly had the 
explosion followed their throwing — had scarce begun to 
check the way the fire-ship had on her as she came up. 

Cyril, having cast over a grapnel that had fallen on the poop, 
looked down on the fire-ship as she drifted along. The deck, 
which, like everything else, had been smeared with tar, was 
in a blaze, but the combustible had not been carried as far as 
the helm, where doubtless the captain had stood to direct her 
course. A sudden thought struck him. He ran along the 
poop until opposite the stern of the fire-ship, climbed over 
the bulwark and leapt down on to the deck, some fifteen feet 


THE BATTLE OF LOWESTOFT 


237 


below him. Then he seized the helm and jammed it hard 
down. The fire-ship had still steerage way on her, and he 
saw her head at once begin to turn away from the Henrietta ; 
the movement was aided by the latter’s crew, who, with poles 
and oars, pushed her off. 

The heat was terrific, but Cyril’s helmet and breast-piece 
sheltered him somewhat; yet though he shielded his face with 
his arm, he felt that it would speedily become unbearable. 
His eye fell upon a coil of rope at his feet. Snatching it up, 
he fastened it to the tiller and then round a belaying-pin in 
the bulwark, caught up a bucket with a rope attached, threw 
it over the side and soused its contents over the tiller-rope, 
then, unbuckling the straps of his breast- and back-pieces, he 
threw them off, cast his helmet on the deck, blistering his 
hands as he did so, and leapt overboard. It was with a deli¬ 
cious sense of coolness that he rose to the surface and looked 
round. Hitherto he had been so scorched by the flame and 
smothered by the smoke that it was with difficulty he had kept 
his attention upon what he was doing, and would doubtless, 
in another minute, have fallen senseless. The plunge into 
the sea seemed to restore his faculties, and as he came up 
he looked eagerly to see how far success had attended his 
efforts. 

He saw with delight that the bow of the fire-ship was thirty 
or forty feet distant from the side of the Heni'ietta and her 
stern half that distance. Two or three of the sails of the man- 
of-war had caught fire, but a crowd of seamen were beating 
the flames out of two of them while another, upon which the 
fire had got a better hold, was being cut away from its yard. 
As he turned to swim to the side of the Henrietta , three or four 
ropes fell close to him. He twisted one of these round his 
body, and, a minute later, was hauled up into the waist. He 
was saluted with a tremendous cheer, and was caught up by 
three or four strong fellows, who, in spite of his remonstrances, 
carried him up on to the poop. Prince Rupert was standing 
on the top of the ladder. 


238 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“Nobly done, Sir Cyril!” he exclaimed. “You have 
assuredly saved the Henrietta and all our lives. A minute 
later, and we should have been on fire beyond remedy. But 
I will speak more to you when we have finished with the 
Dutchman on the other side.” 




99 


“ a DUTCH MAN-OF-WAR RAN ALONGSIDE AND FIRED A BROADSIDE, 
























































































CHAPTER XIV 

HONOURABLE SCARS 

TVURING the time that the greater part of the crew of the 
U Henrietta had been occupied with the fire-ship, the enemy 
had redoubled their efforts, and as the sailors returned to their 
guns, the mizzen-mast fell with a crash. A minute later, a Dutch 
man-of-war ran alongside, fired a broadside, and grappled. 
Then her crew, springing over the bulwarks, poured on to the 
deck of the Henrietta . They were met boldly by the soldiers, 
who had hitherto borne no part in the fight, and who, enraged 
at the loss they had been compelled to suffer, fell upon the 
enemy with fury. For a moment, however, the weight of 
numbers of the Dutchmen bore them back, but the sailors, 
who had at first been taken by surprise, snatched up their 
boarding pikes and axes. 

Prince Rupert, with the other officers and Volunteers, dashed 
into the thick of the fray, and, step by step, the Dutchmen 
were driven back, until they suddenly gave way and rushed 
back to their own ship. The English would have followed 
them, but the Dutch who remained on board their ship, seeing 
that the fight was going against their friends, cut the ropes of 
the grapnels, and the ships drifted apart, some of the last to 
leave the deck of the Henrietta being forced to jump into the 
sea. The cannonade was at once renewed on both sides, but 
the Dutch had had enough of it — having lost very heavily in 
men — and drew off from the action. 

Cyril had joined in the fray. He had risen to his feet and 
239 







240 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


drawn his sword, but he found himself strangely weak. His 
hands were blistered and swollen, his face was already so 
puffed that he could scarce see out of his eyes; still, he 
had staggered down the steps to the waist, and, recovering 
his strength from the excitement, threw himself into the 
fray. 

Scarce had he done so, when a sailor next to him fell heavily 
against him, shot through the head by one of the Dutch sol¬ 
diers. Cyril staggered, and before he could recover himself, 
a Dutch sailor struck at his head. He threw up his sword to 
guard the blow, but the guard was beaten down as if it had 
been a reed. It sufficed, however, slightly to turn the blow, 
which fell first on the side of the head, and then, glancing 
down, inflicted a terrible wound on the shoulder. 

He fell at once, unconscious, and, when he recovered his 
senses, found himself laid out on the poop, where Sydney, 
assisted by two of the other gentlemen, had carried him. His 
head and shoulder had already been bandaged, the Prince 
having sent for his doctor to come up from below to attend 
upon him. 

The battle was raging with undiminished fury all round, 
but, for the moment, the Henrietta was not engaged, and her 
crew were occupied in cutting away the wreckage of the 
mizzen-mast, and trying to repair the more important of the 
damages that she had suffered. Carpenters were lowered over 
the side, and were nailing pieces of wood over the shot-holes 
near the water-line. Men swarmed aloft knotting and splic¬ 
ing ropes and fishing damaged spars. 

Sydney, who was standing a short distance away, at once 
came up to him. 

“ How are you, Cyril? ” 

“ My head sings, and my shoulder aches, but I shall do well 
enough. Please get me lifted up on to that seat by the bul¬ 
wark, so that I can look over and see what is going on.” 

“I don’t think you are strong enough to sit up, Cyril.” 

“Oh, yes I am; besides, I can lean against the bulwark.” 


HONOURABLE SCARS 


241 


Cyril was placed in the position he wanted, and, leaning 
his arm on the bulwark and resting his head on it, was able 
to see what was passing. 

Suddenly a tremendous explosion was heard a quarter of a 
mile away. 

“The Dutch admiral’s ship has blown up,” one of the men 
aloft shouted, and a loud cheer broke from the crew. 

It was true. The Duke of York in the Royal Charles , of 
eighty guns, and the Eendracht , of eighty-four, the flagship 
of Admiral Obdam, had met and engaged each other fiercely. 
For a time the Dutchmen had the best of it. A single shot 
killed the Earl of Falmouth, Lord Muskerry, and Mr. Boyle, 
three gentlemen Volunteers, who at the moment were standing 
close to the Duke, and the Royal Charles suffered heavily until 
a shot from one of her guns struck the Dutchman’s magazine, 
and the Eendracht blew up, only five men being rescued out 
of the five hundred that were on board of her. 

This accident in no small degree decided the issue of the 
engagement, for the Dutch at once fell into confusion. Four 
of their ships, a few hundred yards from the Henrietta > fell 
foul of each other, and while the crews were engaged in trying 
to separate them an English fire-ship sailed boldly up and 
laid herself alongside. A moment later the flames shot up 
high, and the boat with the crew of the fire-ship rowed to the 
Henrietta. The flames instantly spread to the Dutch men-of- 
war, and the sailors were seen jumping over in great numbers. 
Prince Rupert ordered the boats to be lowered, but only one 
was found to be uninjured. This was manned and pushed 
off at once, and, with others from British vessels near, rescued 
a good many of the Dutch sailors. 

Still the fight was raging all round; but a short time after¬ 
wards three other of the finest ships in the Dutch Fleet ran into 
each other. Another of the English fire-ships hovering near 
observed the opportunity, and was laid alongside, with the 
same success as her consort, the three men-of-war being all 
destroyed, 

Q 


242 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


This took place at some distance from the Henrietta , but 
the English vessels near them succeeded in saving, in their 
boats, a portion of the crews. The Dutch ship Orange , of 
seventy-five guns, was disabled after a sharp fight with the 
A/ary, and was likewise burnt. Two Dutch vice-admirals 
were killed, and a panic spread through the Dutch Fleet. 
About eight o’clock in the evening between thirty and forty 
of their ships made off in a body, and the rest speedily fol¬ 
lowed. During the fight and the chase eighteen Dutch ships 
were taken, though some of these afterwards escaped, as the 
vessels to which they had struck joined the rest in the chase. 
Fourteen were sunk, besides those burnt and blown up. Only 
one English ship, the Charity , had struck, having, at the begin¬ 
ning of the fight been attacked by three Dutch vessels, and 
lost the greater part of her men, and was then compelled to 
surrender to a Dutch vessel of considerably greater strength 
that came up and joined the others. The English loss was, 
considering the duration of the fight, extremely small, amount¬ 
ing to but 250 killed, and 340 wounded. Among the killed 
were the Earl of Marlborough, the Earl of Portland, who was 
present as a Volunteer, Rear-Admiral Sampson, and Vice- 
Admiral Lawson, the latter of whom died after the fight, from 
his wounds. 

The pursuit of the Dutch was continued for some hours, 
and then terminated abruptly, owing to a Member of Parlia¬ 
ment named Brounker, who was in the suite of the Duke of 
York, giving the captain of the Royal Charles orders, which 
he falsely stated emanated from the Duke, for the pursuit to 
be abandoned. For this he was afterwards expelled the 
House of Commons, and was ordered to be impeached, but 
after a time the matter was suffered to drop. 

As soon as the battle was over Cyril was taken down to a 
hammock below. He was just dozing off to sleep when Syd¬ 
ney came to him. 

“ I am sorry to disturb you, Cyril, but an officer tells me 
that a man who is mortally wounded wishes to speak to you; 


HONOURABLE SCARS 


243 


and from his description I think it is the fellow you call 
Black Dick. I thought it right to tell you, but I don’t think 
you are fit to go to see him.” 

“I will go,” Cyril said, “if you will lend me your arm. I 
should like to hear what the poor wretch has to say.” 

“He lies just below; the hatchway is but a few yards dis¬ 
tant.” 

There had been no attempt to remove Cyril’s clothes, and, 
by the aid of Lord Oliphant and of a sailor he called to his 
aid, he made his way below, and was led through the line of 
wounded, until a doctor, turning round, said,— 

“This is the man who wishes to see you, Sir Cyril.” 

Although a line of lanterns hung from the beams, so nearly 
blind was he that Cyril could scarce distinguish the man’s 
features. 

“I have sent for you,” the latter said faintly, “to tell you 
that if it hadn’t been for your jumping down on to that fire¬ 
ship you would not have lived through this day’s fight. I 
saw that you recognised me, and knew that, as soon as we 
went back, you would hand us over to the constables. So I 
made up my mind that I would run you through in the inelee 
if we got hand to hand with the Dutchmen, or would put a 
musket-ball into you while the firing was going on. But when 
I saw you standing there with the flames round you, giving 
your life, as it seemed, to save the ship, I felt that, even if I 
must be hung for it, I could not bring myself to hurt so brave 
a lad; so there is an end of that business. Robert Ashford 
was killed by a gun that was knocked from its carriage, so 
you have got rid of us both. I thought I should like to tell 
you before I went that the brave action you did saved your 
life, and that, bad as I am, I had yet heart enough to feel 
that I would rather take hanging than kill you.” 

The last words had been spoken in a scarcely audible whis¬ 
per. The man closed his eyes; and the doctor, laying his 
hand on Cyril’s arm, said,— 

“You had better go back to your hammock now, Sir Cyril. 


244 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


He will never speak again. In a few minutes the end will 
come.” 

Cyril spent a restless night. The wind was blowing strongly 
from the north, and the crews had hard work to keep the 
vessels off the shore. His wounds did not pain him much, 
but his hands, arms, face, and legs smarted intolerably, for 
his clothes had been almost burnt off him, and, refreshing as 
the sea-bath had been at the moment, it now added to the 
smarting of the wounds. 

In the morning Prince Rupert came down to see him. 

“It was madness of you to have joined in that melee , lad, 
in the state in which you were. I take the blame on myself 
in not ordering you to remain behind; but when the Dutch¬ 
men poured on board I had no thought of aught but driving 
them back again. It would have marred our pleasure in the 
victory we have won had you fallen, for to you we all owe our 
lives and the safety of the ship. No braver deed was per¬ 
formed yesterday than yours. I fear it will be some time 
before you are able to fight by my side again; but, at least, 
you have done your share, and more, were the war to last a 
lifetime.” 

Cyril was in less pain now, for the doctor had poured oil 
over his burns, and had wrapped up his hands in soft ban¬ 
dages. 

“It was the thought of a moment, Prince,” he said. “I 
saw the fire-ship had steerage way on her, and if the helm 
were put down she would drive away from our side, so without 
stopping to think about it one way or the other, I ran along 
to the stern, and jumped down to her tiller..” 

“Yes, lad, it was but a moment’s thought, no doubt, but it 
is one thing to think, and another to execute, and none but 
the bravest would have ventured that leap on to the fire-ship. 
By to-morrow morning we shall be anchored in the river. 
Would you like to be placed in the hospital at Sheerness, or to 
be taken up to London? ” 

“I would rather go to London, if I may,” Cyril said. “I 


HONOURABLE SCARS 


245 


know that I shall be well nursed at Captain Dave’s, and hope, 
erelong, to be able to rejoin.” 

“Not for some time, lad— not for some time. Your burns 
will doubtless heal apace, but the wound in your shoulder is 
serious. The doctor says that the Dutchman’s sword has cleft 
right through your shoulder-bone. ’Tis well that it is your 
left, for it may be that you will never have its full use again. 
You are not afraid of the Plague, are you? for on the day we 
left town there was a rumour that it had at last entered the 
City.” 

“I am not afraid of it,” Cyril said; “and if it should come 
to Captain Dowsett’s house, I would rather be there, that I 
may do what I can to help those who were so kind to me.” 

“Just as you like, lad. Do not hurry to rejoin. It is not 
likely there will be any fighting for some time, for it will be 
long before the Dutch are ready to take the sea again after 
the hammering we have given them, and all there will be to 
do will be to blockade their coast and to pick up their ships 
from foreign ports as prizes.” 

The next morning Cyril was placed on board a little yacht, 
called the Fan Fan , belonging to the Prince, and sailed up 
the river, the ship’s company mustering at the side and giving 
him a hearty cheer. The wind was favourable, and they 
arrived that afternoon in town. According to the Prince’s 
instructions, the sailors at once placed Cyril on a litter that 
had been brought for the purpose, and carried him up to 
Captain Dowsett’s. 

The City was in a state of agitation. The news of the vic¬ 
tory had arrived but a few hours before, and the church bells 
were all ringing, flags were flying, the shops closed, and the 
people in the streets. John Wilkes came down in answer to 
the summons of the bell. 

“Hullo!” he said; “whom have we here?” 

“Don’t you know me, John?” Cyril said. 

John gave a start of astonishment. 

“By St. Anthony, it is Master Cyril! At least, it is his 


246 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


voice, though it is little I can see of him, and what I see in 
no way resembles him.” 

“It is Sir Cyril Shenstone,” the captain of the Fan Fan , 
who had come with the party, said sternly, feeling ruffled at 
the familiarity with which this rough-looking servitor of a 
City trader spoke of the gentleman in his charge. “ It is Sir 
Cyril Shenstone, as brave a gentleman as ever drew sword, 
and who, as I hear, saved Prince Rupert’s ship from being 
burnt by the Dutchmen.” 

“He knows me,” John Wilkes said bluntly, “and he knows 
no offence is meant. The Captain and his dame, and Mis¬ 
tress Nellie are all out, Sir Cyril, but I will look after you till 
they return. Bring him up, lads. I am an old sailor myself, 
and fought the Dutch under Blake and Monk more than once.” 

He led the way upstairs into the best of the spare rooms. 
Here Cyril was laid on a bed. He thanked the sailors heartily 
for the care they had taken of him, and the captain handed a 
letter to John, saying,— 

“The young Lord Oliphant asked me to give this to Cap¬ 
tain Dowsett, but as he is not at home I pray you to give it 
him when he returns.” 

As soon as they had gone, John returned to the bed. 

“This is terrible, Master Cyril. What have they been do¬ 
ing to you? I can see but little of your face for those ban¬ 
dages, but your eyes look mere slits, your flesh is all red and 
swollen, your eyebrows have gone, your arms and legs are all 

swathed up in bandages- Have you been blown up with 

gunpowder? — for surely no wound could have so disfigured 
you.” 

“ I have not been blown up, John, but I was burnt by the 
flames of a Dutch fire-ship that came alongside. It is a 
matter that a fortnight will set right, though I doubt not that 
I am an unpleasant-looking object at present, and it will be 
some time before my hair grows again.” 

“And you are not hurt otherwise, Master?” John asked 
anxiously. 



HONOURABLE SCARS 


247 


“Yes; I am hurt gravely enough, though not so as to im¬ 
peril my life. I have a wound on the side of my head, and 
the same blow, as the doctor says, cleft through my shoulder- 
bone.” 

“I had best go and get a surgeon at once,” John said; 
“though it will be no easy matter, for all the world is agog in 
the streets.” 

“ Leave it for the present, John. There is no need what¬ 
ever for haste. In that trunk of mine is a bottle of oils for 
the burns, though most of the sore places are already begin¬ 
ning to heal over, and the doctor said that I need not apply 
it any more, unless I found that they smarted too much for 
bearing. As for the other wounds, they are strapped up and 
bandaged, and he said that unless they inflamed badly, they 
would be best let alone for a time. So sit down quietly, and 
let me hear the news.” 

“The news is bad enough, though the Plague has not yet 
entered the City.” 

“The Prince told me that there was a report, before he came 
on board at Lowestoft, that it had done so.” 

“No, it is not yet come; but people are as frightened as if 
it was raging here. For the last fortnight they have been 
leaving in crowds from the West End, and many of the citi¬ 
zens are also beginning to move. They frighten themselves 
like a parcel of children. The comet seemed to many a sign 
of great disaster.” 

Cyril laughed. 

“ If it could be seen only in London there might be some¬ 
thing in it, but as it can be seen all over Europe, it is hard 
to say why it should augur evil to London especially. It was 
shining in the sky three nights ago when we were chasing the 
Dutch, and they had quite as good reason for thinking it was 
a sign of misfortune to them as have the Londoners.” 

“That is true enough,” John Wilkes agreed; “though, in 
truth, I like not to see the thing in the sky myself. Then 
people have troubled their heads greatly because, in Master 


I 


248 WHEN LONDON BURNED 

Lilly’s Almanack, and other books of prediction, a great pes¬ 
tilence is foretold.” 

“It needed no great wisdom for that,” Cyril said, “seeing 
that the Plague has been for some time busy in foreign parts, 
and that it was here, though not so very bad, in the winter, 
when these books would have been written.” 

“Then,” John Wilkes went on, “there is a man going 
through the streets, night and day. He speaks to no one, but 
cries out continually, ‘Oh! the great and dreadful God!’ 
This troubles many men’s hearts greatly.” 

“It is a pity, John, that the poor fellow is not taken and 
shut up in some place where madmen are kept. Doubtless, 
it is some poor coward whose brain has been turned by fright. 
People who are frightened by such a thing as that must be 
poor-witted creatures indeed.” 

“That may be, Master Cyril, but methinks it is as they say, 
one fool makes many. People get together and bemoan 
themselves till their hearts fail them altogether. And yet, 
methinks they are not altogether without reason, for if the 
pestilence is so heavy without the walls, where the streets are 
wider and the people less crowded than here, it may well be 
that we shall have a terrible time of it in the City when it 
once passes the walls.” 

“ That may well be, John, but cowardly fear will not make 
things any better. We knew, when we sailed out against the 
Dutch the other day, that very many would not see the setting 
sun, yet I believe there was not one man throughout the 
Fleet who behaved like a coward.” 

“No doubt, Master Cyril; but there is a difference. One 
can fight against men, but one cannot fight against the pesti¬ 
lence, and I do not believe that if the citizens knew that a 
great Dutch army was marching on London, and that they 
would have to withstand a dreadful siege, they would be 
moved with fear as they are now.” 

“That may be so,” Cyril agreed. “ Now, John, I think that 
I could sleep for a bit.” 


HONOURABLE SCARS 


249 


“ Do so, Master, and I will go into the kitchen and see what 
I can do to make you a basin of broth when you awake; for 
the girl has gone out too. She wanted to see what was going 
on in the streets; and as I had sooner stay quietly at home I 
offered to take her place, as the shop was shut and I had noth¬ 
ing to do. Maybe by the time you wake again Captain Dave 
and the others will be back from their cruise.” 

It was dark when Cyril woke at the sound of the bell. He 
heard voices and movements without, and then the door was 
quietly opened. 

“I am awake,” he said. “You see I have taken you at 
your word, and come back to be patched up.” 

“You are heartily welcome,” Mrs. Dowsett said. “Nellie, 
bring the light. Cyril is awake. We were sorry indeed when 
John told us that you had come in our absence. It was but a 
cold welcome for you to find that we were all out.” 

“There was nothing I needed, madam. Had there been, 
John would have done it for me.” 

Nellie now appeared at the door with the light, and gave an 
exclamation of horror as she approached the bedside. 

“It is not so bad as it looks, Nellie,” Cyril said. “Not 
that I know how it looks, for I have not seen myself in a glass 
since I left here; but I can guess that I am an unpleasant 
object to look at.” 

Mrs. Dowsett made a sign to Nellie to be silent. 

“John told us that you were badly burned and were all 
wrapped up in bandages, but we did not expect to find you 
so changed. However, that will soon pass off, I hope.” 

“I expect I shall be all right in another week, save for this 
wound in my shoulder. As for that on my head, it is but of 
slight consequence. My skull was thick enough to save my 
brain.” 

“Well, Master Cyril,” Captain Dave said heartily, as he 
entered the room with a basin of broth in his hand, and then 
stopped abruptly. 

“ Well, Captain Dave, here I am, battered out of all shape, 


250 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


you see, but not seriously damaged in my timbers. There, 
you see, though I have only been a fortnight at sea, I am get¬ 
ting quite nautical.” > 

“That is right, lad — that is right,” Captain Dave said, a 
little unsteadily. “My dame and Nellie will soon put you 
into ship-shape trim again. So you got burnt, I hear, by one 
of those rascally Dutch fire-ships? and John tells me that the 
captain of the sailors who carried you here said that you had 
gained mighty credit for yourself.” 

“I did my best, as everyone did, Captain Dave. There 
was not a man on board the Fleet who did not do his duty, 
or we should never have beaten the Dutchmen so soundly.” 

“You had better not talk any more,” Mrs. Dowsett said^ 
“You are in my charge now, and my first order is that you 
must keep very quiet, or else you will be having fever come 
on. You had best take a little of this broth now. Nellie will 
sit with you while I go out to prepare you a cooling drink.” 

“I will take a few spoonfuls of the soup since John has 
taken the trouble to prepare it for me,” Cyril said; “though, 
indeed, my lips are so parched and swollen that the cooling 
drink will be much more to my taste.” 

“I think it were best first, dame,” the Captain said, “that 
John and I should get him comfortably into bed, instead of 
lying there wrapped up in the blanket in which they brought 
him ashore. Tfie broth will be none the worse for cooling 
a bit.” 

“That will be best,” his wife agreed. “I will fetch some 
more pillows, so that we can prop him up. He can swallow 
more comfortably so, and will sleep all the better when he 
lies down again.” 

As soon as Cyril was comfortably settled John Wilkes was 
sent to call in a doctor, who, after examining him, said that 
the burns were doing well, and that he would send in some 
cooling lotion to be applied to them frequently. As to the 
wounds, he said they had been so skilfully bandaged that it 
were best to leave them alone, unless great pain set in. 


HONOURABLE SCARS 


251 


Another four days, and Cyril’s face had so far recovered its 
usual condition that the swelling was almost abated, and the 
bandages could be removed. The peak of the helmet had 
sheltered it a good deal, and it had suffered less than his 
hands and arms. Captain Dave and John had sat up with 
him by turns at night, while the Dame and her daughter had 
taken care of him during the day. He had slept a great deal, 
and had not been allowed to talk at all. This prohibition 
was now removed, as the doctor said that the burns were now 
all healing fast, and that he no longer had any fear of fever 
setting in. 

“By the way, Captain,” John Wilkes said, that day, at din¬ 
ner, “I have just bethought me of this letter, that was given 
me by the sailor who brought Cyril here. It is for you, from 
young Lord Oliphant. It has clean gone out of my mind till 
now. I put it in the pocket of my doublet, and have forgot¬ 
ten it ever since.” 

“No harm can have come of the delay, John,” Captain 
Dave said. “It was thoughtful of the lad. He must have 
been sure that Cyril would not be in a condition to tell us 
aught of the battle, and he may have sent us some details of it, 
for the Gazette tells us little enough, beyond the ships taken 
and the names of gentlemen and officers killed. Here, Nellie, 
do you read it. It seems a long epistle, and my eyes are not 
as good as they were.” 

Nellie took the letter and read aloud: — 

“ ‘ Dear and Worthy Sir, — I did not think when I was so 
pleasantly entertained at your house that it would befall me 
to become your correspondent, but so it has happened, for, 
Sir Cyril being sorely hurt, and in no state to tell you how 
the matter befell him — if indeed his modesty would allow 
him, which I greatly doubt — it is right that you should know 
how the business came about, and what great credit Sir Cyril 
has gained for himself. In the heat of the fight, when we 
were briskly engaged in exchanging broadsides with a Dutch- 


252 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


man of our own size, one of their fire-ships, coming unnoticed 
through the smoke, slipped alongside of us, and, the flames 
breaking out, would speedily have destroyed us, as indeed 
they went near doing. The grapnels were briskly thrown 
over, but she had already touched our sides, and the flames 
were blowing across us when Sir Cyril, perceiving that she 
had still some way on her, sprang down on to her deck and 
put over the helm. She was then a pillar of flame, and the 
decks, which were plentifully besmeared with pitch, were all 
in a blaze, save just round the tiller where her captain had 
stood to steer her. It was verily a furnace, and it seemed 
impossible that one could stand there for only half a minute 
and live. Everyone on board was filled with astonishment, 
and the Prince called out loudly that he had never seen a 
braver deed. As the fire-ship drew away from us, we saw Sir 
Cyril fasten the helm down with a rope, and then, lowering a 
bucket over, throw water on to it; then he threw off his hel¬ 
met and armour — his clothes being, by this time, all in a 
flame — and sprang into the sea, the fire-ship being now well 
nigh her own length from us. She had sheered off none too 
soon, for some of our sails were on fire, and it was with great 
difficulty that we succeeded in cutting them from the yards 
and so saving the ship. 

‘“All, from the Prince down, say that no finer action was 
ever performed, and acknowledge that we all owe our lives, 
and His Majesty owes his ship, to it. Then, soon after we 
had hauled Sir Cyril on board, the Dutchmen boarded us, 
and there was a stiff fight, all hands doing their best to beat 
them back, in which we succeeded. 

“‘Sir Cyril, though scarce able to stand, joined in the fray, 
unnoticed by us all, who in the confusion had not thought of 
him, and being, indeed, scarce able to hold his sword, re¬ 
ceived a heavy wound, of which, however, the doctor has all 
hopes that he will make a good recovery. 

“‘It would have done you good to hear how the whole crew 
cheered Sir Cyril as we dragged him on board. The Prince 


HONOURABLE SCARS 


253 


is mightily taken with him, and is sending him to London in 
his own yacht, where I feel sure that your good dame and fair 
daughter will do all that they can to restore him to health. As 
soon as I get leave — though I do not know when that will be, 
for we cannot say as yet how matters will turn out, or what 
ships will keep the sea — I shall do myself the honour of wait¬ 
ing upon you. I pray you give my respectful compliments to 
Mrs. Dowsett and Mistress Nellie, who are, I hope, enjoying 
good health. 

“ 4 Your servant to command, 

“‘Sydney Oliphant.’ ” 

The tears were standing in Nellie’s eyes, and her voice 
trembled as she read. When she finished she burst out crying. 

“There!” John Wilkes exclaimed, bringing his fist down 
upon the table. “ I knew, by what that skipper said, the lad 
had been doing something quite out of the way, but when I 
spoke to him about it before you came in he only said that 
he had tried his best to do his duty, just as every other man 
in the Fleet had done. Who would have thought, Captain 
Dave, that that quiet young chap, who used to sit down below 
making out your accounts, was going to turn out a hero? ” 

“Who, indeed?” the Captain said, wiping his eyes with 
the back of his hands. “Why, he wasn’t more than fifteen 
then, and, as you say, such a quiet fellow. He used to sit 
there and write, and never speak unless I spoke to him. ’Tis 
scarce two years ago, and look what he has done! Who would 
have thought it? I can’t finish my breakfast,” he went on, 
getting up from his seat, “till I have gone in and shaken him 
by the hand.” 

“You had better not, David,” Mrs. Dowsett said gently. 
“We had best say but little to him about it now. We can let 
him know we have heard how he came by his burns from 
Lord Oliphant, but do not let us make much of it. Had he 
wished it he would have told us himself.” 

Captain Dave sat down again. 


254 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“ Perhaps you are right, my dear. At any rate, till he is 
getting strong we will not tell him what we think of him. 
Anyhow, it can’t do any harm to tell him we know it, and 
may do him good, for it is clear he does not like telling it 
himself, and may be dreading our questioning about the 
affair.” 

Mrs. Dowsett and Nellie went into Cyril’s room as soon as 
they had finished breakfast. Captain Dave followed them a 
few minutes later. 

“We have been hearing how you got burnt,” he began. 
“Your friend, Lord Oliphant, sent a letter about it by the 
skipper of his yacht. That stupid fellow, John, has been carry¬ 
ing it about ever since, and only remembered it just now, when 
we were at breakfast. It was a plucky thing to do, lad.” 

“It turned out a very lucky one,” Cyril said hastily, “for 
it was the m^ans of saving my life.” 

“Saving your life, lad! What do you mean? ” 

Cyril then told how Robert Ashford and Black Dick had 
been brought on board as impressed men, how the former 
had been killed, and the confession that Black Dick had made 
to him before dying. 

“He said he had made up his mind to kill me during the 
fight, but that, after I had risked my life to save the Heriri- 
etta, he was ashamed to kill me, and that, rather than do so, 
he had resolved to take his chance of my denouncing him 
when he returned to land.” 

“There was some good in the knave, then,” Captain Dave 
said. “Yes, it was a fortunate as well as a brave action, as it 
turned out.” 

“Fortunate in one respect, but not in another,” Cyril put 
in, anxious to prevent the conversation reverting to the ques¬ 
tion of his bravery. “ I put down this wound in my shoulder 
to it, for if I had been myself I don’t think I should have got 
hurt. I guarded the blow, but I was so shaky that he broke 
my guard down as if I had been a child, though I think that 
it did turn the blow a little, and saved it from falling fair on 


HONOURABLE SCARS 


255 


my skull. Besides, I should have had my helmet and armour 
on if it had not been for my having to take a swim. So, you 
see, Captain Dave, things were pretty equally balanced, and 
there is no occasion to say anything more about them.” 

“We have one piece of bad news to tell you, Cyril,” Mrs. 
Dowsett remarked, in order to give the conversation the turn 
which she saw he wished for. “ We heard this morning that 
the Plague has come at last into the City. Dr. Burnet was 
attacked yesterday.” 

“That is bad news indeed, Dame, though it was not to be 
expected that it would spare the City. If you will take my 
advice, you will go. away at once, before matters get worse, 
for if the Plague gets a hold here the country people will have 
nothing to do with Londoners, fearing that they will bring 
the infection among them.” 

“We shall not go until you are fit to go with us, Cyril,” 
Nellie said indignantly. 

“Then you will worry me into a fever,” Cyril replied. “I 
am getting on well now, and as you said, when you were talk¬ 
ing of it before, you should leave John in charge of the house 
and shop, he will be able to do everything that is necessary 
for me. If you stay here, and the Plague increases, I shall 
keep on worrying myself at the thought that you are risking 
your lives needlessly for me, and if it should come into the 
house, and any of you die, I shall charge myself all my life 
with having been the cause of your death. I pray you, for 
my sake as well as your own, to lose no time in going to the 
sister Captain Dave spoke of, down near Gloucester.” 

“Do not agitate yourself,” Mrs. Dowsett said gently, press¬ 
ing him quietly back on to the pillows from which he had 
risen in his excitement. “We will talk it over, and see what 
is for the best. It is but a solitary case yet, and may spread 
no further. In a few days we shall see how matters go. 
Things have not come to a bad pass yet.” 

Cyril, however, was not to be consoled. Hitherto he had 
given comparatively small thought to the Plague, but now that 


256 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


it was in the City, and he felt that his presence alone pre¬ 
vented the family from leaving, he worried incessantly over it. 

“Your patient is not so well,” the doctor said to Mrs. Dow- 
sett, next morning. “ Yesterday he was quite free from fever 
— his hands were cool; now they are dry and hard. If this 
goes on, I fear that we shall have great trouble.” 

“ He is worrying himself because we do not go out of town. 
We had, indeed, made up our minds to do so, but we could 
not leave him here.” 

“Your nursing would be valuable certainly, but if he goes 
on as he is he will soon be in a high fever; his wounds will 
grow angry and fester. While yesterday he seemed in a fair 
way to recovery, I should be sorry to give any favourable 
opinion as to what may happen if this goes on. Is there no 
one who could take care of him if you went? ” 

“John Wilkes will remain behind, and could certainly be 
trusted to do everything that you directed; but that is not like 
women, doctor.” 

“No, I am well aware of that; but if things go on well he 
will really not need nursing, while, if fever sets in badly, the 
best nursing may not save him. Moreover, wounds and all 
other ailments of this sort do badly at present; the Plague in 
the air seems to affect all other maladies. If you will take 
my advice, Dame, you will carry out your intention, and leave 
at once. I hear there are several new cases of the Plague to¬ 
day in the City, and those who can go should lose no time in 
doing so; but, even if not for your own sakes, I should say go 
for that of your patient.” 

“Will you speak to my husband, doctor? I am ready to 
do whatever is best for your patient, whom we love dearly, 
and regard almost as a son.” 

“ If he were a son I should give the same advice. Yes, I 
will see Captain Dowsett.” 

Half an hour later, Cyril was told what the doctor’s advice 
had been, and, seeing that he was bent on it, and that if they 
stayed they would do him more harm than good, they resolved 
to start the next day for Gloucestershire. 



ii 


TAKK HEJl PUWN qUICK, JOHN, THERE ARE THREE OTHERS,” 













CHAPTER XV 

THE PLAGUE 

DELUCTANT as they were to leave Cyril, Mrs. Dowsett and 
^ her daughter speedily saw that the doctor’s advice was 
good. Cyril did not say much, but an expression of restful 
satisfaction came over his face, and it was not long before he 
fell into a quiet sleep that contrasted strongly with the restless 
and fretful state in which he had passed the night. 

“You see I was right, madam,” the doctor said that even¬ 
ing. “The fever has not quite left him, but he is a different 
man to what he was this morning; another quiet night’s rest, 
and he will regain the ground he has lost. I think you can 
go in perfect comfort so far as he is concerned. Another 
week and he will be up, if nothing occurs to throw him back 
again; but of course it will be weeks before he can use his 
arm.” 

John Wilkes had been sent off as soon as it was settled that 
they would go, and had bought, at Epping, a waggon and a 
pair of strong horses. It had a tilt, and the ladies were to 
sleep in it on the journey, as it was certain that, until they 
were far away from London, they would be unable to obtain 
lodgings. A man was engaged to drive them down, and a sail 
and two or three poles were packed in the waggon to make a 
tent for him and Captain Dowsett. A store of provisions was 
cooked, and a cask of beer, another of water, and a case of 
wine were also placed in. Mattresses were laid down for the 
ladies to sit on during the day and to sleep on at night; so 

257 r 



258 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


they would be practically independent during the journey. 
Early next morning they started. 

“ It seems heartless to leave you, Cyril,” Nellie said, as they 
came in to say good-bye. 

“Not heartless at all,” Cyril replied. “I know that you 
are going because I wish it.” 

“ It is more than wishing, you tiresome boy. We are going 
because you have made up your mind that you will be ill if 
we don’t. You are too weak to quarrel with now, but when 
we meet again, tremble, for I warn you I shall scold you ter¬ 
ribly then.” 

“You shall scold me as much as you please, Nellie; I shall 
take it all quite patiently.” 

Nellie and her mother went away in tears, and Captain 
Dave himself was a good deal upset. They had thought the 
going away from home on such a long journey would be a 
great trial, but this was now quite lost sight of in their regret 
at what they considered deserting Cyril, and many were the 
injunctions that were given to John Wilkes before the waggon 
drove off. They were somewhat consoled by seeing that 
Cyril was undoubtedly better and brighter. He had slept all 
night without waking, his hands were cool, and the flush had 
entirely left his cheek. 

“ If they were starting on a voyage to the Indies they could 
not be in a greater taking,” John Wilkes said, on returning 
to Cyril’s bedside. “Why, I have seen the Captain go off on 
a six months’ voyage and less said about it.” 

“ I am heartily glad they are gone, John. If the Plague 
grows there will be a terrible time here. Is the shop shut?” 

“Ay; the man went away two days ago, and we sent off the 
two ’prentices yesterday. There is naught doing. Yester¬ 
day half the vessels in the Pool cleared out on the news of 
the Plague having got into the City, and I reckon that, be¬ 
fore long, there won’t be a ship in the port. We shall have 
a quiet time of it, you and I; we shall be like men in charge 
of an old hulk.” 


THE PLAGUE 


259 


Another week, and Cyril was up. All his bandages, except 
those on the shoulder and head, had been thrown aside, and 
the doctor said that, erelong, the former would be dispensed 
with. John had wanted to sit up with him, but as Cyril 
would not hear of this he had moved his bed into the same 
room, so that he could be up in a moment if anything was 
wanted. He went out every day to bring in the news. 

“There is little enough to tell, Master Cyril,” he said one 
day. “So far, the Plague grows but slowly in the City, 
though, indeed, it is no fault of the people that it does not 
spread rapidly. Most of them seem scared out of their wits; 
they gather together and talk, with white faces, and one man 
tells of a dream that his wife has had, and another of a voice 
that he says he has heard; and some have seen ghosts. Yes¬ 
terday I came upon a woman with a crowd round her; she 
was staring up at a white cloud, and swore that she could 
plainly see an angel with a white sword, and some of the 
others cried that they saw it too. I should like to have been 
a gunner’s mate with a stout rattan, and to have laid it over 
their shoulders, to give them something else to think about 
for a few hours. It is downright pitiful to see such cowards. 
At the corner of one street there was a quack, vending pills 
and perfumes that he warranted to keep away the Plague, and 
the people ran up and bought his nostrums by the score; I 
hear there are a dozen such in the City, making a fortune out 
of the people’s fears. I went into the tavern I always use, 
and had a glass of Hollands and a talk with the landlord. He 
says that he does as good a trade as ever, though in a different 
way. There are no sailors there now, but neighbours come 
in and drink down a glass of strong waters, which many think 
is the best thing against the Plague, and then hurry off again. 
I saw the Gazette there, and it was half full of advertisements 
of people who said they were doctors from foreign parts, and 
all well accustomed to cure the Plague. They say the magis¬ 
trates are going to issue notices about shutting up houses; as 
they do at St. Giles’s, and to have watchmen at the doors to 


260 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


see none come in or go out, and that they are going to ap¬ 
point examiners in every parish to go from house to house to 
search for infected persons.” 

“I suppose these are proper steps to take,” Cyril said, “but 
it will be a difficult thing to keep people shut up in houses 
where one is infected. No doubt it would be a good thing at 
the commehcement of the illness, but when it has once spread 
itself, and the very air become infected, it seems to me that 
it will do but little good, while it will* assuredly cause great 
distress and trouble. I long to be able to get up myself, and 
to see about things.” 

“The streets have quite an empty aspect, so many have 
gone away ; and what with that, and most of the shops being 
closed, and the dismal aspect of the people, there is little 
pleasure in being out, Master Cyril.” 

“ I dare say, John. Still, it will be a change, and, as soon 
as I am strong enough, I shall sally out with you.” 

Another fortnight, and Cyril was able to do so. The 
Plague had still spread, but so slowly that people began to 
hope that the City would be spared any great calamity, for 
they were well on in July, and in another six weeks the heat 
of summer would be passed. Some of those who had gone 
into the country returned, more shops had been opened, and 
the panic had somewhat subsided. 

“What do you mean to do, Master Cyril?” John Wilkes 
asked that evening. “Of course you cannot join the Fleet 
again, for it will be, as the doctor says, another two months 
before your shoulder-bone will have knit strongly enough for 
you to use your arm, and at sea.it is a matter of more conse¬ 
quence than on land for a man to have the use of both arms. 
The ship may give a sudden lurch, and one may have to make 
a clutch at whatever is nearest to prevent one from rolling 
into the lee scuppers; and such a wrench as that would take 
from a weak arm all the good a three months’ nursing had 
done it, and might spoil the job of getting the bone to grow 
straight again altogether. 1 don’t say you are fit to travel 


THE PLAGUE 


261 


yet, but you should be able before long to start on a journey, 
and might travel down into Gloucestershire, where, be sure, you 
will be gladly welcomed by the Captain, his dame, and Mis¬ 
tress Nellie. Or, should you not care for that, you might go 
aboard a ship. There are hundreds of them lying idle in the 
river, and many families have taken up their homes there, so 
as to be free from all risks of meeting infected persons in the 
streets.” 

“ I think I shall stay here, John, and keep you company. 
If the Plague dies away, well and good. If it gets bad, we 
can shut ourselves up. You say that the Captain has laid in 
a great store of provisions, so that you could live without 
laying out a penny for a year, and it is as sure as anything 
can be, that when the cold weather comes on it will die out. 
Besides, John, neither you nor I are afraid of the Plague, and 
it is certain that it is fear that makes most people take it. If 
it becomes bad, there will be terrible need for help, and maybe 
we shall be able to do some good. If we are not afraid 
of facing death in battle, why should we fear it by the Plague. 
It is as noble a death to die helping one’s fellow-countrymen 
in their sore distress as in fighting for one’s country.” 

“That is true enough, Master Cyril, if folks did but see it 
so. I do not see what we could do, but if there be aught, 
you can depend on me. I was in a ship in the Levant when 
we had a fever, which, it seems to me, was akin to this Plague, 
though not like it in all its symptoms. Half the crew died, 
and, as you say, I verily believe that it was partly from the 
lowness of spirits into which they fell from fear. I used to 
help nurse the sick, and throw overboard the dead, and it 
never touched me. I don’t say that I was braver than others, 
but it seemed to me as it was just as easy to take things com¬ 
fortable as it was to fret over them.” 

Towards the end of the month the Plague spread rapidly, 
and all work ceased in the parishes most affected. But, just 
as it had raged for weeks in the Western parishes outside the 
City, so it seemed restricted by certain invisible lines, after 


262 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


it had made its entry within the walls, and while it raged in 
some parts others were entirely unaffected, and here shops 
were open, and the streets still retained something of their 
usual appearance. There had been great want among the 
poorer classes, owing to the cessation of work, especially 
along the fiverside. The Lord Mayor, some of the Aider- 
men, and most other rich citizens had hastened to leave the 
City. While many of the clergy were deserting their flocks, 
and many doctors their patients, others remained firmly at 
their posts, and worked incessantly, and did all that was pos¬ 
sible in order to check the spread of the Plague and to relieve 
the distress of the poor. 

Numbers of the women were engaged as nurses. Examiners 
were appointed in each parish, and these, with their assist¬ 
ants, paid house-to-house visitations, in order to discover any 
who were infected; and as soon as the case was discovered 
the house was closed, and none suffered to go in or out, a 
watchman being placed before the door day and night. Two 
men therefore were needed to each infected house, and this 
afforded employment for numbers of poor. Others were en¬ 
gaged in digging graves, or in going round at night, with 
carts, collecting the dead. 

So great was the dread of the people at the thought of being 
shut up in their houses, without communication with the 
world, that every means was used for concealing the fact that 
one of the inmates was smitten down. This was the more 
easy because the early stages of the disease were without pain, 
and people were generally ignorant that they had been attacked 
until within a few hours, and sometimes within a few minutes, 
of their death; consequently, when the Plague .had once 
spread, all the precautions taken to prevent its increase were 
useless, while they caused great misery and suffering, and 
doubtless very much greater loss of life. For, owing to so 
many being shut up in the houses with those affected, and 
there being no escape from the infection, whole familes, 
with the servants and apprentices, sickened and died together. 


THE PLAGUE 


263 


Cyril frequently went up to view the infected districts. He 
was not moved by curiosity, but by a desire to see if there 
were no way of being of use. There was not a street but 
many of the houses were marked with the red cross. In front 
of these the watchmen sat on stools or chairs lent by the 
inmates, or borrowed from some house whence the inhabitants 
had all fled. The air rang with pitiful cries. Sometimes 
women, distraught with terror or grief, screamed wildly through 
open windows. Sometimes people talked from the upper 
stories to their neighbours on either hand, or opposite, pris¬ 
oners like themselves, each telling their lamentable tale of 
misery, of how many had died and how many remained. 

It was by no means uncommon to see on the pavement men 
and women who, in the excess of despair or pain, had thrown 
themselves headlong down. While such sounds and sights 
filled Cyril with horror, they aroused still more his feelings of 
pity and desire to be of some use. Very frequently he went 
on errands for people who called down from above to him. 
Money was lowered in a tin dish, or other vessel, in which it 
lay covered with vinegar as a disinfectant. Taking it out, 
he would go and buy the required articles, generally food or 
medicine, and, returning, place them in a basket that was 
again lowered. 

The watchmen mostly executed these commissions, but 
many of them were surly fellows, and, as they were often 
abused and cursed by those whom they held prisoners, would 
do but little for them. They had, moreover, an excuse for 
refusing to leave the door, because, as often happened, it 
might be opened in their absence and the inmates escape. 
It was true that the watchmen had the keys, but the screws 
were often drawn from the locks inside; and so frequently 
was this done that at last chains with padlocks were fastened 
to all the doors as soon as the watch was set over them. But 
even this did not avail. Many of the houses had communi¬ 
cations at the backs into other streets, and so eluded the vigi¬ 
lance of the watch; while, in other cases, communications 


264 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


were broken through the walls into other houses, empty either 
by desertion or death, and the escape could thus be made 
under the very eye of the watchman. 

Very frequently Cyril went into a church when he saw the 
door open. Here very small congregations would be gath¬ 
ered, for there was a fear on the part of all of meeting with 
strangers, for these might, unknown to themselves, be already 
stricken with the pest, and all public meetings of any kind 
were, for this reason, strictly forbidden. One day, he was 
passing a church that had hitherto been always closed, its 
incumbent being one of those who had fled at the outbreak of 
the Plague. Upon entering he saw a larger congregation 
than usual, some twenty or thirty people being present. 

The minister had just mounted the pulpit, and was begin¬ 
ning his address as Cyril entered. The latter was struck with 
his appearance. He was a man of some thirty years of age, 
with a strangely earnest face. His voice was deep, but soft 
and flexible, and in the stillness of the almost empty church 
its lowest tones seemed to come with impressive power, and 
Cyril thought that he had never heard such preaching before. 
The very text seemed strange at such a time: “ Rejoice ye, 

for the kingdom of heaven is at hand” From most of the 
discourses he had heard Cyril had gone out depressed rather 
than inspirited. They had been pitched in one tone. The 
terrible scourge that raged round them was held up as a pun¬ 
ishment sent by the wrath of God upon a sinful people, and 
the congregation were warned to prepare themselves for the 
fate, that might at any moment be theirs, by repentance and 
humiliation. The preacher to whom Cyril was now listening 
spoke in an altogether different strain. 

“You are all soldiers of Christ,” he said, “and now is an 
opportunity given to you to show that you are worthy soldiers. 
When the troops of a worldly monarch go into battle they do 
so with head erect, with proud and resolute bearing, with 
flashing eye, and with high courage, determined to bear aloft 
his banner and to crown it with victory, even though it cost 


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them their lives. Such is the mien that soldiers of Christ 
should bear in the mortal strife now raging round us. Let 
them show the same fearlessness of death, the same high 
courage, the same unlimited confidence in their Leader. 
What matter if they die in His service? He has told them 
what their work should be. He has bidden them visit the 
sick and comfort the sorrowing. What if there be danger in 
the work? Did He shrink from the Cross which was to end 
His work of love, and is it for His followers to do so? 
‘ Though you go down into the pit,’ He has said, ‘ I am there 
also ’; and with His companionship one must be craven 
indeed to tremble. This is a noble opportunity for holding 
high the banner of Christ. There is work to be done for all, 
and as the work is done, men should see by the calm courage, 
the cheerfulness, and the patience of those that do it, that 
they know that they are doing His work, and that they are 
content to leave the issue, whatever it be, in His hands.” 

Such was the tone in which, for half an hour, he spoke. 
When he had finished he offered up a prayer, gave the bless¬ 
ing, and then came down from the pulpit and spoke to several 
of the congregation. He was evidently personally known to 
most of them. One by one, after a few words, they left the 
church. Cyril remained to the last. 

“I am willing to work, sir,” he said, as the preacher came 
up, “but, so far, no work has come in my way.” 

“Have you father or mother, or any dependent on you?” 

“ No one, sir.” 

“Then come along with me; I lodge close by. I have 
eaten nothing to-day, and must keep up my strength, and I 
have a long round of calls to make.” 

“This is the first time I have seen the church open,” Cyril 
said, as they went out. 

“ It is not my church, sir, nor do I belong to the Church of 
England; I am an Independent. But as many of the pastors 
have fled and left their sheep untended, so have we — for 
there are others besides myself who have done so — taken 


266 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


possession of their empty pulpits, none gainsaying us, and are 
doing what good we can. You have been in the war, I see,” he 
went on, glancing at Cyril’s arm, which was carried in a sling. 

“Yes; I was at the battle of Lowestoft, and having been 
wounded there, came to London to stay in a friend’s house 
till I was cured. He and his family have left, but I am liv¬ 
ing with a tfusty foreman who is in charge of the house. I 
have a great desire to be useful. I myself have little fear of 
the Plague.” 

“That is the best of all preservatives from its ravages, 
although not a sure one; for many doctors who have laboured 
fearlessly have yet died. Have you thought of any way of 
being useful? ” 

“No, sir; that is what is troubling me. As you see, I have 
but the use of one arm, and I have not got back my full 
strength by a long way.” 

“Everyone can be useful if he chooses,” the minister said. 
“There is need everywhere among this stricken, frightened, 
helpless people, of men of calm courage and cool heads. 
Nine out of ten are so scared out of their senses, when once 
the Plague enters the houses, as to be well-nigh useless, and 
yet the law hinders those who would help if they could. I 
am compelled to labour, not among those who are sick, but 
among those who are well. When one enters a house with 
the red cross on the door, he may leave it no more until he is 
either borne out to the dead-cart, or the Plague has wholly 
disappeared within it, and a month has elapsed. The sole 
exception are the doctors; they are no more exempt from 
spreading the infection than other men, but as they must do 
their work so far as they can they have free passage; and yet, 
so few is their number and so heavy already their losses, that 
not one in a hundred of those that are smitten can have their 
aid. Here is one coming now, one of the best — Dr. Hodges. 
If you are indeed willing so to risk your life, I will speak to 
him. But I know not your name? ” 

“My name is Cyril Shenstone.” 


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267 


The clergyman looked at him suddenly, and would have 
spoken, but the doctor was now close to them. 

“Ah! Mr. Wallace,” he said, “I am glad to see you, and to 
know that, so far, you have not taken the disease, although 
constantly going into the worst neighbourhoods.” 

“Like yourself, Dr. Hodges, I have no fear of it.” 

“I do not say I have no fear,” the doctor replied. “I do 
my duty so far as I can, but I do not doubt that, sooner or 
later, I shall catch the malady, as many of us have done 
already. I take such precautions as I can, but the distemper 
seems to baffle all precautions. My only grief is that our 
skill avails so little. So far we have found nothing that seems 
to be of any real use. Perhaps if we could attack it in the 
earlier stages we might be more successful. The strange nature 
of the disease, and the way in which it does its work well-nigh 
to the end, before the patient is himself aware of it, puts it 
out of our power to combat it. In many cases I am not sent 
for until the patient is at the point of death, and by the time 
I reach his door I am met with the news that he is dead. But 
I must be going.” 

“One moment, Dr. Hodges. This young gentleman has 
been expressing to me his desire to be of use. I know noth¬ 
ing of him save that he was one of my congregation this morn¬ 
ing, but, as he fears not the Plague, and is moved by a'desire 
to help his fellows in distress, I take it that he is a good 
youth. He was wounded in the battle of Lowestoft, and, 
being as ready to encounter the Plague as he was the Dutch, 
would now fight in the cause of humanity. Would you take 
him as an assistant? I doubt if he knows anything of medi¬ 
cine, but I think he is one that would see your orders carried 
out. He has no relations or friends, and therefore considers 
himself free to venture his life.” 

The doctor looked earnestly at Cyril and then raised 
his hat. 

“Young sir,” he said, “since you are willing so to venture 
your life, I will gladly accept your help. There are few 


268 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


enough clear heads in this city, God knows. As for the 
nurses, they are Jezebels. They have the choice of starving 
or nursing, and they nurse; but they neglect their patients, 
they rob them, and there is little doubt that in many cases 
they murder them, so that at the end of their first nursing they 
may have enough money to live on without going to another 
house. But 1 am pressed for time. Here is my card. Call 
on me this evening at six, and we will talk further on the 
matter.” 

Shaking hands with the minister he hurried away. 

“Come as far as my lodgings,” Mr. Wallace said to Cyril, 
“and stay with me while I eat my meal. ’Tis a diversion to 
one’s mind to turn for a moment from the one topic that all 
men are speaking of. 

“Your name is Shenstone. I come from Norfolk. There 
was a family of that name formerly had estates near my native 
place. One Sir Aubrey Shenstone was at its head — a brave 
gentleman. I well remember seeing him when I was a boy, 
but he took the side of the King against the Parliament, and, 
as we heard, passed over with Charles to France when his 
cause was lost. I have not heard of him since.” 

“Sir Aubrey was my father,” Cyril said quietly; “he died 
a year ago. I am his only son.” 

“And therefore Sir Cyril,” the minister said, “though you 
did not so name yourself.” 

“It was needless,” Cyril said. “I have no estates to sup¬ 
port my title, and though it is true that, when at sea with 
Prince Rupert, I was called Sir Cyril, it was because the 
Prince had known my father, and knew that I, at his death, 
inherited the title, though I inherited nothing else.” 

They now reached the door of Mr. Wallace’s lodging, and 
went up to his room on the first floor. 

“Neglect no precaution,” the minister said. “No one 
should throw away his life. I myself, although not a smoker, 
nor accustomed to take snuff, use it now, and would, as the 
doctors advise, chew a piece of tobacco, but ’tis too nasty, 


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269 


and when I tried it, I was so ill that I thought even the risk 
of the Plague preferable. But I carry camphor in my pockets, 
and when I return from preaching among people of whom 
some may well have the infection, I bathe my face and hands 
with vinegar, and, pouring some on to a hot iron, fill the room 
with its vapour. My life is useful, I hope, and I would fain 
keep it, as long as it is the Lord’s will, to work in His ser¬ 
vice. As a rule, I take wine and bread before I go out in the 
morning, though to-day I was pressed for time, and neglected 
it. I should advise you always to do so. I am convinced 
that a full man has less chance of catching the infection than 
a fasting one, and that it is the weakness many men suffer 
from their fears, and from their loss of appetite from grief, 
that causes them to take it so easily. When the fever was so 
bad in St. Giles’s, I heard that in many instances, where 
whole families were carried away, the nurses shut up with 
them were untouched with the infection, and I believe that 
this was because they had become hardened to the work, and 
ate and drank heartily, and troubled not themselves at all at 
the grief of those around them. They say that many of these 
harpies have grown wealthy, loading themselves with every¬ 
thing valuable they could lay hands on in the houses of those 
they attended.” 

After the meal, in which he insisted upon Cyril joining 
him, was concluded, Mr. Wallace uttered a short prayer that 
Cyril might safely pass through the work he had undertaken. 

“I trust,” he said, “that you will come here frequently? 
I generally have a few friends here of an evening. We try to 
be cheerful, and to strengthen each other, and I am sure we 
all have comfort at these meetings.” 

“Thank you, I will come sometimes, sir; but as a rule I 
must return home, for my friend, John Wilkes, would sorely 
miss my company, and is so good and faithful a fellow that I 
would not seem to desert him on any account.” 

“ Do as you think right, lad, but remember there will always 
be a welcome for you here when you choose to come.” 


270 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


John Wilkes was dismayed when he heard of Cyril’s inten¬ 
tion. 

“Well, Master Cyril,” he said, after smoking his pipe in 
silence for some time, “ it is not for me to hinder you in 
what you have made up your mind to do. I don’t say that if 
I wasn’t on duty here that I mightn’t go and do what I could 
for these poor creatures. But I don’t know. It is one thing 
to face a deadly fever like this Plague if it comes on board 
your own ship, for there is no getting out of it; and as you 
have got to face it, why, says I, do it as a man; but as for 
going out of your way to put yourself in the middle of it, that 
is going a bit beyond me.” 

“Well, John, you didn’t think it foolish when I went as a 
Volunteer to fight the Dutch. It was just the same thing, you 
know.” 

“I suppose it was,” John said reluctantly, after a pause. 
“But then, you see, you were fighting for your country.” 

“Well, but in the present case I shall be fighting for my 
countrymen and countrywomen, John. It is awful to think 
of the misery that people are suffering, and it seems to me 
that, having nothing else to do here, it is specially my duty to 
put my hand to the work of helping as far as I can. The risk 
may, at present, be greater than it would be if I stayed at 
home, but if the Plague spreads — and it looks as if all the 
City would presently be affected — all will have to run the 
risk of contagion. There are thousands of women now who 
voluntarily enter the houses as nurses for a small rate of pay. 
Even robbers, they say, will enter and ransack the houses of 
the dead in search of plunder. It will be a shame indeed 
then if one should shrink from doing so when possibly one 
might do good.” 

“ I will say nothing more against it, Master Cyril. Still, I 
do not see exactly what you are going to do; with one arm 
you could scarce hold down a raving man.” 

“I am not going to be a nurse, certainly, John,” Cyril said, 
with a laugh. “ I expect that the doctor wants certain cases 


THE PLAGUE 


271 


watched. Either he may doubt the nurses, or he may want 
to see how some particular drug works. Nothing, so far, 
seems of use, but that may be partly because the doctors are 
all so busy that they cannot watch the patients and see, from 
hour to hour, how medicines act.” 

“When I was in the Levant, and the pest was bad there,” 
John Wilkes said, “I heard that the Turks, when seized with 
the distemper, sometimes wrapped themselves up in a great 
number of clothes, so that they sweated heavily, and that this 
seemed, in some cases, to draw off the fever, and so the 
patient recovered.” 

“That seems a sensible sort of treatment, John, and worth 
trying with this Plague.” 

On calling on Dr. Hodges that afternoon, Cyril found that 
he had rightly guessed the nature of the work that the doctor 
wished him to perform. 

“I can never rely upon the nurses,” he said. “I give in¬ 
structions with medicines, but in most cases I am sure that 
the instructions are never carried out. The relations and 
friends are too frightened to think or act calmly, too full of 
grief for the sick, and anxiety for those who have not yet 
taken the illness, to watch the changes in the patient. As to 
the nurses, they are often drunk the whole time they are in 
the house. Sometimes they fear to go near the sick man or 
woman; sometimes, undoubtedly, they hasten death. In 
most cases it matters little, for we are generally called in too 
late to be of any service. The poor people view us almost as 
enemies; they hide their malady from us in everyway. Half 
our time, too, is wasted uselessly, for many are there who 
frighten themselves into the belief that they are ill, and send 
for us in all haste. So far, we feel that we are working alto¬ 
gether in the dark; none of us can see that any sort of drug 
avails even in the slightest degree when the malady has once 
got a hold. One in twenty cases may live, but why we know 
not. Still the fact that some do live shows that the illness is 
not necessarily mortal, and that, could the right remedy be 


272 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


found, we might yet overcome it. The first thing, however, 
is to try to prevent its spread. Here we have ten or more 
people shut up in a house with one sick person. It is a terri¬ 
ble necessity, for it is a sentence of death to many, if not to 
all. We give the nurses instructions to fumigate the room by 
evaporating vinegar upon hot irons, by burning spices and 
drugs, by sprinkling perfumes. So far, I cannot see that these 
measures have been of any service, but I cannot say how 
thoroughly they have been carried out, and I sorely need an 
assistant to see that the system is fairly tried. It is not 
necessary that he should be a doctor, but he must have influ¬ 
ence and power over those in the house. He must be calm 
and firm, and he must be regarded by the people as a doctor. 
If you will undertake this, you must put on a wig, for you 
know that that is looked upon as a necessary part of a doctor’s 
outfit by people in general. I shall introduce you as my 
assistant, and say that you are to be obeyed as implicitly as 
if I myself were present. There is another reason why you 
must pass as a doctor, for you would otherwise be a prisoner 
and unable to pass in and out. You had best wear a black 
suit. I will lend you one of my canes and a snuff-box, and 
should advise you to take snuff, even if it is not your habit, 
for I believe that it is good against infection, and one of the ex¬ 
periments I wish to try is as to what its result may be if burnt 
freely in the house. Are you ready to undertake this work? ” 

“Quite ready, sir.” 

“Then come round here at eight in the morning. I shall 
have heard by that hour from the examiners of this parish of 
any fresh case they have found. They begin their rounds at 
five o’clock.” 

The next day Cyril presented himself at the doctor’s, 
dressed in black, with white ruffles to his shirt, and a flowing 
wig he had purchased the night before. 

“Here are the cane and snuff-box,” Dr. Hodges said. 
“ Now you will pass muster very well as my assistant. Let us 
be off at once, for I have a long list of cases.” 


THE PLAGUE 


273 


Cyril remained outside while Dr. Hodges went into 
three or four houses. Presently he came down to the door, 
and said to him, — 

“This is a case where things are favourable for a first trial. 
It is a boy who is taken ill, and the parents, though in deep 
grief, seem to have some sense left.” 

He turned to the watchman, who had already been placed 
at the door. The man, who evidently knew him, had saluted 
respectfully when he entered the house. 

“This gentleman is my assistant,” he said, “and you will 
allow him to pass in and out just as you would myself. He is 
going to take this case entirely in hand, and you will regard 
him as being in charge here.” 

He then re-entered the house with Cyril, and led him to the 
room where the parents of the boy, and two elder sisters, were 
assembled. 

“This is my assistant,” he said, “and he has consented to 
take entire charge of the case, though I myself shall look in 
and consult with him every morning. In the first place, your 
son must be taken to the top storey of the house. You say 
that you are ready to nurse him yourselves, and do not wish 
that a paid nurse should be had in. I commend your deter¬ 
mination, for the nurses are, for the most part, worse than 
useless, and carry the infection all over the house. But only 
one of you must go into the room, and whoever goes in must 
stay there. It is madness for all to be going in and out and 
exposing themselves to the infection when no good can be 
done. When this is the case, one or other is sure to take the 
malady, and then it spreads to all. Which of you will under¬ 
take the duty? ” 

All four at once offered themselves, and there was an earn¬ 
est contest between them for the dangerous post. Dr. Hodges 
listened for a minute or two, and then decided upon the elder 
of the two sisters — a quiet, resolute-looking girl with a 
healthy face. 

“This young lady shall be nurse,” he said. “I feel that I 

s 


274 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


can have confidence in her. She looks healthy and strong, 
and would, methinks, best resist the malady, should she take 
it. I am leaving my assistant here for a time to see to the 
fumigation of the house. You will please see that his orders 
are carried out in every respect. I have every hope that if 
this is done the Plague will not spread further; but much 
must depend upon yourselves. Do not give way to grief, but 
encourage each other, and go about with calm minds. I see,” 
he said, pointing to a Bible on the table, “that you know 
where to go for comfort and strength. The first thing is to 
carry the boy up to the room that we chose for him.” 

“I will do that,” the father said. 

“ He had better be left in the blankets in which he is lying. 
Cover him completely over with them, for, above all, it is 
necessary that you should not inhale his breath. You had 
better take the head and your daughter the feet. But first see 
that the room upstairs is prepared.” 

In a few minutes the lad was transferred to the upper room, 
the doctor warning the others not to enter that from which he 
had been carried until it had been fumigated and sprinkled 
with vinegar. 

“Now,” he said to the girl who was to remain with the pa¬ 
tient, “ keep the window wide open; as there is no fireplace, 
keep a brazier of charcoal burning near the window. Keep 
the door shut, and open it only when you have need for some¬ 
thing. Give him a portion of this medicine every half hour. 
Do not lean over him — remember that his breath is a fatal 
poison. Put a pinch of these powdered spices into the fire 
every few minutes. Pour this perfume over your handker¬ 
chief, and put it over your mouth and nose whenever you 
approach the bed. He is in a stupor now, poor lad, and I 
fear that his chance of recovery is very slight; but you must 
remember that your own life is of value to your parents, and 
that it behoves you to do all in your power to preserve it, and 
that if you take the contagion it may spread through the house. 
We shall hang a sheet, soaked in vinegar, outside the door.” 


THE PLAGUE 


275 


“We could not have a better case for a trial,” he said, as 
he went downstairs and joined Cyril, whom he had bidden 
wait below. “The people are all calm and sensible, and if 
we succeed not here, there is small chance of our succeeding 
elsewhere.” 

The doctor then gave detailed orders as to fumigating the 
house, and left. Cyril saw at once that a brazier of charcoal 
was lighted and carried upstairs, and he called to the girl to 
come out and fetch it in. As soon as she had done so the 
sheet was hung over the door. Then he took another brazier, 
placed it in the room from which the boy had been carried, 
laid several lumps of sulphur upon it, and then left the room. 
All the doors of the other rooms were then thrown open, and 
a quantity of tobacco, spices, and herbs, were burnt on a red- 
hot iron at the foot of the stairs, until the house was filled 
with a dense smoke. Half an hour later all the windows were 
opened. 




CHAPTER XVI 

FATHER AND SON 

''THE process of fumigation had well-nigh suffocated the wife 
* and daughter of the trader, but, as soon as the smoke 
cleared away, Cyril set them all to work to carry up articles 
of furniture to another bedroom on the top floor. 

“When your daughter is released from nursing, madam,” 
he said, “she must at once come into this room, and remain 
there secluded for a few days. Therefore, it will be well to 
make it as comfortable as possible for her. Her food must 
be taken up and put outside the door, so that she can take it 
in there without any of you going near her.” 

The occupation was a useful one, as it distracted the thoughts 
of those engaged in it from the sick room. . 

Cyril did not enter there. He had told the girl to call him 
should there be any necessity, but said,— 

“ Do not call me unless absolutely needful, if, for instance, 
he becomes violent, in which case we must fasten the sheets 
across him so as to restrain him. But it is of no use your 
remaining shut up there if I go in and out of the room to carry 
the infection to the others.” 

“You have hurt your arm, doctor?” the mother said, when 
the arrangements were all made, and they had returned to the 
room below. 

“Yes,” he said; “I met with an accident, and must, for a 
short time, keep my arm in a sling.” 

“You look young, sir, to be running these fearful perils.” 

“I am young,” Cyril said, “and have not yet completed all 

276 






FATHER AND SON 


277 


my studies; but Dr. Hodges judged that I was sufficiently 
advanced to be able to be of service to him, not so much 
in prescribing as by seeing that his orders were carried 
out.” 

Every half hour he went upstairs, and inquired, through the 
door, as to the state of the boy. 

Late in the afternoon he heard the girl crying bitterly with¬ 
in. He knocked, and she cried out,— 

“He is dead, sir; he has just expired.” 

“Then you must think of yourself and the others,” he said. 
“The small packet I placed on the chair contains sulphur. 
Close the window, then place the packet on the fire, and leave 
the room at once and go into the next room, which is all 
ready for you. There, I pray you, undress, and sponge your¬ 
self with vinegar, then make your clothes into a bundle and 
put them outside the door. There will be a bowl of hot broth 
in readiness for you there; drink that, and then go to bed at 
once, and keep the blankets over you and try to sleep.” 

He went part of the way downstairs, and, in a minute or 
two, heard a door open and shut, then another door shut. 
Knowing that the order had been carried out, he went down¬ 
stairs. 

“Madam,” he said, “God has taken your boy. The doctor 
had but little hope for him. For the sake of yourself and 
those around you, I pray you all to bear up against the 
sorrow.” 

The mother burst into tears, and, leaving her with her hus¬ 
band and daughter, Cyril went into the kitchen, where the 
maid and an apprentice were sitting with pale faces, and bade 
the servant at once warm up the broth, that had already been 
prepared. As soon as it was ready, he carried a basin up¬ 
stairs. The bundle of clothes had already been placed outside 
the girl’s room. He took this down and put it on the kitchen 
fire. 

“Now,” he said, “take four basins up to the parlour, and 
do you and the boy each make a hearty meal. I think there 


278 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


is little fear of the Plague spreading, and your best chance of 
avoiding it is by keeping up your spirits and not fretting 
about it.” 

As soon as the broth had been taken into the parlour, he 
went in and persuaded them to eat and to take a glass of wine 
with it, while he himself sat down with them. 

“You are all weak,” he said, “for, doubtless, you have 
eaten nothing to-day, and you need strength as well as cour¬ 
age. I trust that your daughter will presently go off into a 
sound sleep. The last thing before you go to bed, take up 
with you a basin of good posset with a glass of wine in it; 
knock gently at her door; if she is awake, tell her to come 
out and take it in as soon as you have gone, but if she does 
not reply, do not rouse her. I can be of no further use to¬ 
night, but will return in the morning, when I hope to find all 
is well.” 

The father accompanied him to the door. 

“You will of course bring the poor boy down to-night. It 
were best that you made some excuse to sleep in another 
room. Let your daughter sleep with her mother. When you 
go in to fetch him, be careful that you do not enter at once, 
for the fumes of the sulphur will scarcely have abated. As 
you go in, place a wet handkerchief to your mouth, and make 
to the window and throw it open, closing the door behind 
you. Sit at the window till the air is tolerable, then wrap the 
blankets round him and carry him downstairs when you hear 
the bell. After he has gone tell the servant to have a brazier 
lighted, and to keep up the kitchen fire. As soon as he is 
gone, burn on the brazier at the foot of the stairs, tobacco 
and spices, as we did before; then take off your clothes and 
burn them on the kitchen fire, and then go up to bed. You 
can leave the doors and windows of the rooms that are not in 
use open, so that the smoke may escape.” 

“God bless you, sir!” the man said. “You have been a 
comfort indeed to us, and I have good hopes that the Plague 
will spread no further among us.” 


FATHER AND SON 


279 


Cyril went first to the doctor’s, and reported what had taken 
place. 

“I will go round in the morning and see how they are,” 
he concluded, “and bring you round word before you start 
on your rounds.” 

“You have done very well indeed,” the doctor said. “If 
people everywhere would be as calm, and obey orders as well 
as those you have been with, I should have good hopes that 
we might check the spread of the Plague; but you will find 
that they are quite the exception.” 

This, indeed, proved to be the case. In many instances, 
the people were so distracted with grief and fear that they ran 
about the house like mad persons, crying and screaming, 
running in and out of the sick chamber, or sitting there cry¬ 
ing helplessly, and refusing to leave the body until it was 
carried out to the dead-cart. But with such cases Cyril had 
nothing to do, as the doctor would only send him to the 
houses where he saw that his instructions would be carried out. 

To his great satisfaction, Cyril found that the precautions 
taken in the first case proved successful. Regularly, every 
morning, he inquired at the door, and received the answer, 
“All are well.” 

In August the Plague greatly increased in violence, the 
deaths rising to ten thousand a week. A dull despair had 
now seized the population. It seemed that all were to be 
swept away. Many went out of their minds. The quacks no 
longer drove a flourishing trade in their pretended nostrums; 
these were now utterly discredited, for nothing seemed of the 
slightest avail. Some went to the opposite extreme, and 
affected to defy fate. The taverns were filled again, and 
boisterous shouts and songs seemed to mock the dismal cries 
from the houses with the red cross on the door. Robberies 
were rife. Regardless of the danger of the pest, robbers broke 
into the houses where all the inmates had perished by the 
Plague, and rifled them of their valuables. The nurses plun¬ 
dered the dying. All natural affection seemed at an end. 


280 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


Those stricken were often deserted by all their relatives, and 
left alone to perish. 

Bands of reckless young fellows went through the streets 
singing, and, dressing up in masks, performed the dance of 
death. The dead were too many to be carried away in carts 
at night to the great pits prepared for them, but the dismal 
tones of the bell, and the cries of “Bring out your dead!” 
sounded in the streets all day. It was no longer possible to 
watch the whole of the infected houses. Sometimes Plague- 
stricken men would escape from their beds and run through 
the streets until they dropped dead. One such man, in the 
height of his delirium, sprang into the river, and, after swim¬ 
ming about for some time, returned to the shore, marvellously 
cured of his malady by the shock. 

Cyril went occasionally in the evening to the lodgings of 
Mr. Wallace. At first he met several people gathered there, 
but the number became fewer every time he went. He had 
told the minister that he thought that it would be better for 
him to stay away, exposed as he was to infection, but Mr. 
Wallace would take no excuses on this score. 

“We are all in the hands of God,” he said. “The streets 
are full of infected people, and I myself frequently go to pray 
with my friends in the earliest stages of the malady. There 
is no longer any use in precautions. We can but all go on 
doing our duty until we are called away, and even among the 
few who gather here of an evening there may be one or more 
who are already smitten, though unconscious yet that their 
summons has come.” 

Among others Cyril was introduced to a Mr. and Mrs. 
Harvey, who were, the minister told him, from the country, 
but were staying in town on account of a painful family 
business. 

“ I have tried to persuade them to return home and to stay 
there until the Plague ceases, but they conceive it their duty 
to remain. They are, like myself, Independents, and are not 
easily to be turned from a resolution they have taken.” 


FATHER AND SON 


281 


Cyril could easily understand that Mr. Harvey was exactly 
what he, from the description he had heard of them, had 
pictured to himself that a Roundhead soldier would be. He 
had a stern face, eyes deeply sunk in his head, high cheek¬ 
bones, a firm mouth, and a square jaw. He wore his hair cut 
close. His figure was bony, and he must, as a young man, 
have been very powerful. He spoke in a slow, deliberate 
way, that struck Cyril as being the result of long effort, for a 
certain restless action of the fingers and the quick movement 
of the eye, told of a naturally impulsive and fiery disposition. 
He constantly used scriptural texts in the course of his speech. 
His wife was gentle and quiet, but it was evident that there 
was a very strong sympathy between them, and Cyril found, 
after meeting them once or twice, that he liked them far 
better than he thought he should do on their first introduction. 
This was, no doubt, partly due to the fact that Mr. Harvey 
frequently entered into conversation with him, and appeared 
to interest himself in him. He was, too, a type that was 
altogether new to the lad. From his father, and his father’s 
companions, he had heard nothing good of the Puritans, but 
the evident earnestness of this man’s nature was, to some 
extent, in accordance with his own disposition, and he felt 
that, widely as he might differ from him on all points of 
politics, he could not but respect him. The evenings were 
pleasant. As if by common consent, the conversation never 
turned on the Plague, but they talked of other passing events, 
of the trials of their friends, and of the laws that were being 
put in force against Nonconformists. 

“What think you of these persecutions, young sir?” Mr. 
Harvey abruptly asked Cyril, one evening, breaking off in the 
midst of a general conversation. 

Cyril was a little confused at the unexpected question. 

“I think all persecutions for conscience’ sake are wrong,” 
he said, after a moment’s pause, “and generally recoil upon 
the persecutors. Spain lost Holland owing to her persecution 
of the people. France lost great numbers of her best citizens 


282 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


by her laws against the Protestants. I agree with you thor¬ 
oughly, that the persecution of the Nonconformists at present 
is a grievous error, and a cruel injustice; but, at the same 
time, if you will excuse my saying so, it is the natural conse¬ 
quence of the persecution by the Nonconformists, when they 
were in power, of the ministers of the Church of England. 
My tutor in France was an English clergyman, who had 
been driven from his living, like thousands of other ministers, 
because he would not give up his opinions. Therefore, you 
see, I very early was imbued with a hatred of persecution in 
any form. I trust that I have not spoken too boldly; but you 
asked for my opinion, and I was forced to give it.” 

“ At any rate, young sir, you have spoken manfully, and I 
like you none the worse for it. Nor can I altogether gainsay 
your words. But you must remember that we had before been 
oppressed, and that we have been engaged in a desperate 
struggle for liberty of conscience.” 

“Which, having won for ourselves, we proceeded to deny 
to others,” Mr. Wallace said, with a smile. “Cyril has us 
fairly, Mr. Harvey. We are reaping what our fathers sowed. 
They thought that the power they had gained was to be theirs 
to hold always, and they used it tyrannously, being thereby 
false to all their principles. It is ever the persecuted, when 
he attains power, who becomes the persecutor, and, hard as 
is the pressure of the laws now, we should never forget that 
we have, in our time, been persecutors, and that in defiance 
of the rights of conscience we had fought to achieve. Man’s 
nature is, I fear, unchangeable. The slave longs, above all 
things, for freedom, but when he rises successfully against 
his master he, in turn, becomes a tyrant, and not infrequently 
a cruel and bloodthirsty one. Still, we must hope. It may 
be in the good days that are to come, we may reach a point 
when each will be free to worship in his own fashion, without 
any fear or hindrance, recognising the fact that each has a 
right to follow his own path to Heaven, without its being a 
subject of offence to those who walk in other ways.” 



?” 


“FOR THE LAST TIME; WILL YOU SIGN THE DEED 


. i 






















































































































































































































FATHER AND SON 


283 


One or two of the other visitors were on the point of speak¬ 
ing, when Mr. Wallace put a stop to further argument by 
fetching a Bible from his closet, and preparing for the short 
service of prayer with which the evening always closed. 

One evening, Mr. Harvey and his wife were absent from 
the usual gathering. 

“I feel anxious about them,” Mr. Wallace said; “they have 
never, since they arrived in town, missed coming here at 
seven o’clock. The bells are usually striking the hour as they 
come. I fear that one or other of them may have been seized 
by the Plague.” 

“With your permission, sir, I will run round and see,” 
Cyril said. “ I know their lodging, for I have accompanied 
them to the door several times. It is but five minutes’ walk 
from here. If one or other is ill I will run round to Dr. 
Hodges, and I am sure, at my request, he will go round at 
once to see them.” 

Cyril walked fast towards the lodging occupied by the Har¬ 
veys. It was at the house of a mercer, but he and his family 
had, three weeks before, gone away, having gladly permitted 
his lodgers to remain, as their presence acted as a guard to 
the house. They had brought up an old servant with them, 
and were therefore able to dispense with other attendants. 
Cyril hurried along, trying, as usual, to pay as little heed as 
he could to the doleful cries that arose from many of the 
houses. Although it was still broad daylight there was scarce 
a soul in the streets, and those he met were, like himself, 
walking fast, keeping as far as possible from any one they 
met, so as to avoid contact. 

As he neared the house he heard a woman scream. A 
moment later a casement was thrown open, and Mrs. Harvey’s 
head appeared. She gave another piercing cry for help, and 
was then suddenly dragged back, and the casement was vio¬ 
lently closed. Cyril had so frequently heard similar cries 
that he would have paid no attention to it had it come from a 
stranger, but he felt that Mrs. Harvey was not one to give way 


284 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


to wild despair, even had her husband been suddenly attacked 
with the Plague. Her sudden disappearance, and the closing 
of the casement, too, were unaccountable, unless, indeed, her 
husband were in a state of violent delirium. He ran to the 
door and flung himself against it. 

“Help me to force it down,” he cried to a man who was 
passing. 

“You are mad,” the man replied. “Do you not see that 
they have got the Plague? You may hear hundreds of such 
cries every day.” 

Cyril drew his sword, which he always carried when he 
went out of an evening — for, owing to the deaths among the 
City watch, deeds of lawlessness and violence were constantly 
perpetrated — and struck, with all his strength, with the hilt 
upon the fastening of the casement next the door. Several 
of the small panes of glass fell in, and the whole window 
shook. Again and again he struck upon the same spot, when 
the fastening gave way, and the window flew open. He 
sprang in at once, ran through the shop into the passage, and 
then upstairs. The door was open, and he nearly fell over 
the body of a man. As he ran into the room he heard the 
words,— 

“For the last time: Will you sign the deed? You think 
I will not do this, but I am desperate.” 

As the words left his mouth, Cyril sprang forward between 
the man and Mr. Harvey, who was standing with his arms 
folded, looking steadfastly at his opponent, who was menac¬ 
ing him with a drawn sword. The man, with a terrible oath, 
turned to defend himself, repeating the oath when he saw who 
was his assailant. 

“ I let you off last time lightly, you scoundrel! ” Cyril ex¬ 
claimed. “This time it is your life or mine.” 

The man made a furious lunge at him. Cyril parried it, 
and would at the next moment have run him through had not 
Mr. Harvey suddenly thrown himself between them, hurling 
Cyril’s antagonist to the ground. 


FATHER AND SON 


285 


“Put up your sword,” he said to Cyril. “This man is my 
son; scoundrel and villain, yet still my son, even though he 
has raised his hand against me. Leave him to God.” 

Cyril had stepped a pace back in his surprise. At first he 
thought that Mr. Harvey’s trouble had turned his brain; then 
it flashed across him that this ruffian’s name was indeed John 
Harvey. The man was about to rise from the floor when 
Cyril again sprang forward. 

“Drop that sword,” he exclaimed, “or I will run you 
through. Now, sir,” he said to Mr. Harvey, “will you draw 
out that pistol, whose butt projects from his pocket, or your 
son may do one of us mischief yet? ” 

That such had been the man’s intention was evident from 
the glance of baffled rage he threw at Cyril. 

“Now, sir, go,” his father said sternly. “Remember that, 
henceforth, you are no son of mine. Did I do my duty I 
should hand you over to the watch — not for your threats to 
me, but for the sword-thrust you have given to Joseph Ed¬ 
monds, who has many times carried you on his shoulder when 
a child. You may compass my death, but be assured that not 
one farthing will you gain thereby. ‘ Vengeance is mine, 
saith the Lord.’ I leave it to Him to pay it. Now go.” 

John Harvey rose to his feet, and walked to the door. 
Then he turned and shook his fist at Cyril. 

“Curse you! ” he said. “I will be even with you yet.” 

Cyril now had time to look round. His eye fell upon the 
figure of Mrs. Harvey, who had fallen insensible. He made 
a step towards her, but her husband said, “ She has but fainted. 
This is more pressing,” and he turned to the old servant. 
Cyril aided him in lifting the old man up and laying him on 
the couch. 

“He breathes,” said he. 

“He is wounded to death,” Mr. Harvey said sadly; “and 
my son hath done it.” 

Cyril opened the servant’s coat. 

“Here is the wound, high up on the left side. It may not 


286 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


touch a vital part. It bleeds freely, and I have heard that 
that is a good sign.” 

“It is so,” Mr. Harvey said excitedly. “Perhaps he may 
yet recover. I would give all that I am worth that it might 
be so, and that, bad as he may be, the sin of this murder 
should not rest on my son’s soul.” 

“I will run for the doctor, sir, but before I go let me 
help you to lift your wife. She will doubtless come round 
shortly, and will aid you to stanch the wound till the doctor 
comes.” 

Mrs. Harvey was indeed already showing signs of returning 
animation. She was placed on a couch, and water sprinkled 
on her face. As soon as he saw her eyes open Cyril caught 
up his hat and ran to Dr. Hodges. The doctor had just fin¬ 
ished his supper, and was on the point of going out again to 
see some of his patients. On hearing from Cyril that a ser¬ 
vant of some friends of his had been wounded by a robber, 
he put some lint and bandages in his pocket, and started with 
him. 

“These robberies are becoming more and more frequent,” 
he said; “and so bold and reckless are the criminals that they 
seem to care not a jot whether they add murder to their other 
crimes. Where do you say the wound is?” 

Cyril pointed below his own shoulder. 

“It is just about there, doctor.” 

“ Then it may be above the upper edge of the lung. If so, 
we may save the man. Half an inch higher or lower will 
make all the difference between life and death. As you say 
that it was bleeding freely, it is probable that the sword has 
missed the lung, for had it pierced it, the bleeding would 
have been chiefly internal, and the hope of saving him would 
have been slight indeed.” 

When they reached the house Cyril found that Mrs. Har¬ 
vey had quite recovered. They had cut open the man’s 
clothes and her husband was pressing a handkerchief, closely 
folded, upon the wound. 


FATHER AND SON 


287 


“It is serious, but, I think, not vital,” Dr. Hodges said, 
after examining it. “I feel sure that the sword has missed 
the lung.” 

After cutting off the rest of the man’s upper garments, he 
poured, from a phial he had brought with him, a few drops 
of a powerful styptic into the wound, placed a thick pad of 
lint over it, and bandaged it securely. Then, giving direc¬ 
tions that a small quantity of spirits and water should be given 
to the patient from time to time, and, above all things, that 
he should be kept perfectly quiet, he hurried away. 

“Is there anything more I can do, sir?” Cyril asked Mr. 
Harvey. 

“Nothing more. You will understand, sir, what our feel¬ 
ings are, and that our hearts are too full of grief and emotion 
for us to speak. We shall watch together to-night, and lay 
our case before the Lord.” 

“Then I will come early in the morning and see if there is 
aught I can do, sir. I am going back now to Mr. Wallace, 
who was uneasy at your absence. I suppose you would wish 
me to say only that I found that there was a robber in the 
place who, having wounded your servant, was on the point of 
attacking you when I entered, and that he fled almost imme¬ 
diately.” 

“That will do. Say to him that for to-night we shall be 
busy nursing, and that my wife is greatly shaken; therefore I 
would notrthat he should come round, but I pray him to call 
here in the morning.” 

“I will do so, sir.” 

Cyril went downstairs, closed the shutters of the window 
into which he had broken, and put up the bars, and then 
went out at the door, taking special pains to close it firmly 
behind him. 

He was glad to be out of the house. He had seen many 
sad scenes during the last few weeks, but it seemed to him that 
this was the saddest of all. Better, a thousand times, to see 
a son stricken by the Plague than this. He walked slowly 


288 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


back to the minister’s. He met Mr. Wallace at the door of 
his house. 

“I was coming round,” the latter said. “Of course one or 
other of them are stricken?” 

“No, sir; it was another cause that prevented their coming. 
Just as I reached the house I heard a scream, and Mrs. Har¬ 
vey appeared at the casement calling for help. I forced open 
a window and ran up. I found that a robber had entered the 
house. He had seriously wounded the old servant, and was 
on the point of attacking Mr. Harvey when I entered. Taken 
by surprise, the man fled almost immediately. Mrs. Harvey 
had fainted. At first, we thought the servant was killed, but, 
finding that he lived, I ran off and fetched Dr. Hodges, who 
has dressed the wound, and thinks that the man has a good 
chance of recovery. As Mrs. Harvey had now come round, 
and was capable of assisting her husband, they did not accept 
my offer to stay and do anything I could. I said I was com¬ 
ing to you, and Mr. Harvey asked me to say that, although 
they were too much shaken to see you this evening, they 
should be glad if you would go round to them the first thing 
in the morning.” 

“Then the robber got away unharmed?” Mr. Wallace 
asked. 

“ He was unharmed, sir. I would rather that you did not 
question me on the subject. Mr. Harvey will doubtless enter 
fully into the matter with you in the morning. We did not 
exchange many words, for he was greatly disturbed in spirit 
at the wounding of his old servant, and the scene he had gone 
through; and, seeing that he and his wife would rather be 
alone with their patient, I left almost directly after Dr. 
Hodges went away. However, I may say that I believe that 
there are private matters in the affair, which he will probably 
himself communicate to you.” 

“Then I will ask no more questions, Cyril. I am well 
content to know that it is not as I feared, and that the Plague 
had not attacked them.” 


FATHER AND SON 


289 


“I said that I would call round in the morning, sir; but I 
have been thinking of it as I came along, and consider that, 
as you will be there, it is as well that I should not do so. I 
will come round here at ten o’clock, and should you not have 
returned, will wait until you do. I do not know that I can 
be of any use whatever, and do not wish to intrude there. 
Will you kindly say this to them, but add that should they 
really wish me to go, I will of course do so? ” 

Mr. Wallace looked a little puzzled. 

“ I will do as you ask me, but it seems to me that they will 
naturally wish to see you, seeing that, had it not been for your 
arrival, they might have been robbed and perhaps murdered.” 

“You will understand better when you have seen Mr. Har¬ 
vey, sir. Now I will be making for home; it is about my 
usual hour, and John Wilkes will be beginning to wonder and 
worry about me.” 

To John, Cyril told the same story as to Mr. Wallace. 

“But how was it that you let the villain escape, Master 
Cyril? Why did you not run him through the body?” 

“I had other things to think of, John. There was Mrs. 
Harvey lying insensible, and the servant desperately wounded, 
and I thought more of these than of the robber, and was glad 
enough, when he ran out, to be able to turn my attention to 
them.” 

“Ay, ay, that was natural enough, lad; but ’tis a pity the 
villain got off scot-free. Truly it is not safe for two old 
people to be in an empty house by themselves in these times, 
specially as, maybe, the houses on either side are also unten¬ 
anted, and robbers can get into them and make their way 
along the roof, and so enter any house they like by the win¬ 
dows there. It was a mercy you chanced to come along. 
Men are so accustomed now to hear screams and calls for aid, 
that none trouble themselves as to such sounds. And you still 
feel quite well? ” 

“Never better, John, except for occasional twitches in my 
shoulder.” 

T 


290 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“ It does not knit so fast as it should do,” John said. “ In 
the first place, you are always on the move; then no one can 
go about into infected houses without his spirits being dis¬ 
turbed, and of all things a calm and easy disposition is essen¬ 
tial for the proper healing of wounds. Lastly, it is certain 
that when there is poison in the air wounds do not heal so 
quickly as at other times.” 

“It is going on well enough, John; indeed, I could not 
desire it to do better. As soon as it is fairly heaied I ought to 
join Prince Rupert again; but in truth I do not wish to go, 
for I would fain see this terrible Plague come to an end before 
I leave; for never since the days of the Black Death, hun¬ 
dreds of years ago, was there so strange and terrible a malady 
in this country.” 

Mr. Wallace had returned to his house when Cyril called 
the next morning. 

“ Thinking over what you said last night, Cyril, I arrived at 
a pretty correct conclusion as to what had happened, though 
I thought not that it could be as bad as it was. I knew the 
object with which Mr. Harvey and his wife had come up to 
London, at a time when most men were fleeing from it. Their 
son has, ever since he came up three years ago, been a 
source of grievous trouble to them, as he was, indeed, for a 
long time previously. Some natures seem naturally to turn 
to evil, and this boy’s was one of them. It may be that the 
life at home was too rigid and severe, and that he revolted 
against it. Certain it is that he took to evil courses and con¬ 
sorted with bad companions. Severity was unavailing. He 
would break out of the house at night and be away for days. 
He was drunken and dissolute. 

“At last, just after a considerable sum of money had come 
into the house from the tenants’ rents, he stole it, and went 
up to London. His name was not mentioned at home, though 
his father learnt from correspondents here that he had become 
a hanger-on of the Court, where, his father being a man of 
condition, he found friends without difficulty. He was a 


FATHER AND SON 


291 


gambler and a brawler, and bore a bad reputation even 
among the riff-raff of the Court. His father learnt that he 
had disappeared from sight at the time the Court went to 
Oxford early in June, and his correspondent found that he 
was reported to have joined a band of abandoned ruffians, 
whose least crimes were those of robbery. 

“When the Plague spread rapidly, Mr. Harvey and his wife 
determined to come up to London, to make one more effort 
to draw him from his evil courses. The only thing that they 
have been able to learn for certain was, that he was one of 
the performers in that wicked mockery the dance of death, 
but their efforts to trace him have otherwise failed. 

“They had intended, if they had found him, and he would 
have made promises of amendment, to have given him money 
that would have enabled him to go over to America and begin 
a new life there, promising him a regular allowance to main¬ 
tain him in comfort. As they have many friends over there, 
some of whom went abroad to settle before the Civil War 
broke out here, they would be able to have news how he was 
going on; and if they found he was living a decent life, and 
truly repented his past course, they would in five years have 
had him back again, and reinstated him as their heir. 

“I knew their intentions in the matter, and have done my 
best to gain them news of him. I did not believe in the 
reformation of one who had shown himself to be of such evil 
spirit; but God is all-powerful, and might have led him out 
from the slough into which he had fallen. 

“Yesterday evening, half an hour before you went there, 
his father and mother were astonished at his suddenly enter¬ 
ing. He saluted them at first with ironical politeness, and 
said that having heard from one from the same part of the 
country that he had seen them in London, he had had the 
streets thereabouts watched, and having found where they 
lodged, had come to pay his respects. 

“There was a reckless bravado in his manner that alarmed 
his mother, and it was not long before the purpose of his 


292 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


visit came out. He demanded that his father should at once 
sign a deed which he had brought drawn out in readiness, 
assigning to him at once half his property. 

“‘You have,’ he said, ‘far more than you can require. 
Living as you do, you must save three-quarters of your income, 
and it would be at once an act of charity, and save you the 
trouble of dealing with money that is of no use to you.’ 

“ His father indignantly refused to take any such step, and 
then told him the plans he had himself formed for him. At 
this he laughed scoffingly. 

You have the choice,’ he said, ‘of giving me half, or of 
my taking everything. ’ And then he swore with terrible oaths 
that unless his father signed the paper, that day should be 
his last. ‘ You are in my power,’ he said, ‘and I am desper¬ 
ate. Do you think that if three dead bodies are found in a 
house now any will trouble to inquire how they came to their 
end? They will be tossed into the plague-cart, and none will 
make inquiry about them.’ 

“Hearing voices raised in anger, the old servant ran in. 
At once the villain drew and ran at him, passing his sword 
through his body. Then, as if transported at the sight of the 
blood he had shed, he turned upon his father. It was at this 
moment that his mother ran to the window and called for help. 
He dragged her back, and as she fell fainting with horror and 
fear he again turned upon his father; his passion grew hotter 
and hotter as the latter, upbraiding him with the deed he had 
done, refused to sign; and there is no doubt that he would 
have taken his life had you not luckily ran in at this moment. 

“ It has truly been a terrible night for them. They have 
passed it in prayer, and when I went this morning were both 
calm and composed, though it was easy to see by their faces 
how they had suffered, and how much the blow has told upon 
them. They have determined to save their son from any 
further temptation to enrich himself by their deaths. I 
fetched a lawyer for them; and when I left Mr. Harvey was 
giving him instructions for drawing up his will, by which 


FATHER AND SON 


293 


every farthing is left away from him. They request me to go 
to them this evening with two or three of our friends to wit¬ 
ness it, as it is necessary in a time like this that a will should 
be witnessed by as many as possible, as some may be carried 
off by the Plague; and should all the witnesses be dead, the 
will might be disputed as a forgery. So the lawyer will bring 
his clerks with him, and I shall take four or five of our 
friends. 

“They will return to the country as soon as their servant 
can be moved. Dr. Hodges came when I was there, and 
gives hopes that the cure will be a speedy one. We are going 
to place some men in the house. I have among my poorer 
friends two men who will be glad to establish themselves there 
with their wives, seeing that they will pay no rent, and will 
receive wages as long as Mr. Harvey remains there. There 
will thus be no fear of any repetition of the attempt. Mr. 
Harvey, on my advice, will also draw up and sign a paper 
giving a full account of the occurrence of last evening, and 
will leave this in the hands of the lawyer. 

“This will be a protection to him should his son follow 
him into the country, as he will then be able to assure him 
that if he proceeds to violence suspicion will at once fall upon 
him, and he will be arrested for his murder. But, indeed, 
the poor gentleman holds but little to his life; and it was only 
on my representing to him that this document might be the 
means of averting the commission of the most terrible of all 
sins from the head of his son, that he agreed to sign it. I 
gave him your message, and he prays me to say that, deeply 
grateful as he and his wife are to you, not so much for the 
saving of their lives, as for preventing their son’s soul being 
stained by the crime, they would indeed rather that you did 
not call for a time, for they are so sorely shaken that they do 
not feel equal to seeing you. You will not, I hope, take this 
amiss.” 

“By no means,” Cyril replied; “it is but a natural feeling; 
and, in truth, I myself am relieved that such is their deci- 


294 


• WHEN LONDON BURNED 


sion, for it would be well-nigh as painful to me as to them to 
see them again, and to talk over the subject.” 

“By the way, Cyril, Mr. Harvey said that when you saw 
his son you cried out his name, and that by the manner in 
which he turned upon you it was clear that he had some cause 
for hating you. Is this so, or was it merely his fancy? ” 

“ It was no fancy, sir. It is not long since I thwarted his 
attempt to carry off the daughter of a city merchant, to whom 
he had represented himself as a nobleman. He was in the 
act of' doing so, with the aid of some friends, when, accom¬ 
panied by John Wilkes, I came up. There was a fray, in the 
course of which I ran him through the shoulder. The young 
lady returned home with us, and has since heartily repented 
of her folly. I had not seen the man since that time till I 
met him yesterday; but certainly the house was watched for 
some time, as I believe, by his associates who would probably 
have done me an ill turn had I gone out after nightfall.” 

“That explains it, Cyril. I will tell Mr. Harvey, whose 
mind has been much puzzled by your recognition of his son.” 






CHAPTER XVII 


SMITTEN DOWN 



‘WO days later, Cyril started at his usual hour to go to Dr. 


1 Hodges’; but he had proceeded but a few yards when a 
man, who was leaning against the wall, suddenly lurched for¬ 
ward and caught him round the neck. Thinking that the 
fellow had been drinking, Cyril angrily tried to shake him off. 
As he did so the man’s hat, which had been pressed down over 
his eyes, fell off, and, to his astonishment, Cyril recognised 
John Harvey. 

“You villain! What are you doing here? ” he exclaimed, 
as he freed himself from the embrace, sending his assailant 
staggering back against the wall. 

The man’s face lit up with a look of savage exultation. 

“I told you you should hear from me again,” he said, “and 
I have kept my word. I knew the hour you went out, and I 
have been waiting for you. You are a doomed man. I have 
the Plague, and I have breathed in your face. Before twenty- 
four hours have passed you will be, as I am, a dying man. 
That is a good piece of vengeance. You may be a better 
swordsman than I am, but you can’t fight with the Plague.” 

Cyril drew back in horror. As he did so, a change came 
over John Harvey’s face, he muttered a few words incohe¬ 
rently, swayed backwards and forwards, and then slid to the 
ground in a heap. A rush of blood poured from his mouth, 
and he fell over dead. 

Cyril’had seen more than one similar death in the streets, 


295 





296 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


but the horrible malignity of this man, and his sudden death, 
gave him a terrible shock. He felt for the moment com¬ 
pletely unmanned, and, conscious that he was too unhinged 
for work, he turned and went back to the house. 

“You look pale, lad,” John Wilkes said, as Cyril went up¬ 
stairs. “What brings you back so soon? ” 

“I have had rather a shock, John.” And he told him of 
what had happened. 

“That was enough to startle you, lad. I should say the 
best thing you could do would be to take a good strong tum¬ 
bler of grog, and then lay down.” 

“ That I will do, and will take a dose of the medicine Dr. 
Hodges makes everyone take when the infection first shows 
itself in a house. As you know, I have never had any fear of 
the Plague hitherto. I don’t say that I am afraid of it now, 
but I have run a far greater risk of catching it than I have 
ever done before, for until now I have never been in actual 
contact with anyone with the disease.” 

After a sleep Cyril rose, and feeling himself again, went to 
call upon Mr. Wallace. 

“I shall not come again for a few days,” he said, after tell¬ 
ing him what had happened, but without mentioning the 
name of John Harvey, “but I will send you a note every other 
day by John Wilkes. If he does not come, you will know 
that I have taken the malady, and in that case, Mr. Wallace, 
I know that I shall have your prayers for my recovery. I am 
sure that I shall be well cared for by John Wilkes.” 

“Of my prayers you maybe sure, Cyril; and, indeed, I have 
every faith that, should you catch the malady, you will recover 
from it. You have neither well-nigh frightened yourself to 
death, nor have you dosed yourself with drugs until nature 
was exhausted before the struggle began. You will, I am 
sure, be calm and composed, and above all you have faith in 
God, and the knowledge that you have done your part to carry 
out His orders, and to visit the sick and aid those in sorrow.” 

The next day Cyril was conscious of no change except 


SMITTEN DOWN 


297 


that he felt a disinclination to exert himself. The next 
morning he had a feeling of nausea. 

“I think that I am in for it, John,” he said. “But at any 
rate it can do no harm to try that remedy you spoke of that is 
used in the East. First of all, let us fumigate the room. As 
far as I have seen, the smoke of tobacco is the best preserva¬ 
tive against the Plague. Now do you, John, keep a bit of 
tobacco in your mouth.” 

“That I mostly do, lad.” 

“Well, keep a bigger bit than usual, John, and smoke stead¬ 
ily. Still, that will not be enough. Keep the fire burning, 
and an iron plate heated to redness over it. Bring that into 
my room from time to time, and burn tobacco on it. Keep 
the room full of smoke.” 

“I will do that,” John said, “but you must not have too 
much of it. I am an old hand, and have many times sat in 
a fo’castle so full of smoke that one could scarce see one’s 
hands, but you are not accustomed to it, and it may like 
enough make you sick.” 

“There will be no harm in that, John, so that one does not 
push it too far. Now, how are you going to set about this 
sweating process?” 

“While you undress and get into bed I will get a blanket 
ready. It is to be dipped in boiling water, and then wrung 
out until it is as dry as we can get it. Then you are wrapped 
in that, and then rolled in five or six dry blankets to keep in 
the heat. You will keep in that until you feel almost weak 
with sweating; then I take you out and sponge you with 
warmish water, and then wrap you in another dry blanket.” 

“You had better sponge me with vinegar, John.” 

Cyril undressed. When he had done so he carefully exam¬ 
ined himself, and his eye soon fell on a black spot on the 
inside of his leg, just above the knee. It was the well- 
known sign of the Plague. 

“I have got it, John,” he said, when the latter entered with 
a pile of blankets. 


298 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“Well, then, we have got to fight it, Master Cyril, and we 
will beat it if it is to be beaten. Now, lad, for the hot 
blanket.” 

% 

“ Lay it down on the bed, and I will wrap myself in it, and 
the same with the others. Now I warn you, you are not to 
come nearer to me than you can help, and above all you are 
not to lean over me. If you do, I will turn you out of the 
room and lock the door, and fight it out by myself. Now 
puff away at that pipe, and the moment you wrap me up get 
the room full of smoke.” 

John nodded. 

“Don’t you bother about me,” he growled. “I reckon the 
Plague ain’t going to touch such a tough old bit of seasoned 
mahogany as I am. Still, I will do as you tell me.” 

In a few minutes Cyril was in a profuse perspiration, in which 
even his head, which was above the blankets, shared. 

“That is grand,” John said complacently. 

The cloud of tobacco, with which the room was soon filled, 
was not long in having the effect that John had predicted, and 
Cyril was soon violently sick, which had the effect of further 
increasing the perspiration. 

“You must open the window and let the smoke out a bit, 
John,” he gasped. “I can’t stand any more of it.” 

This was done, and for another hour Cyril lay between the 
blankets. 

“I shall faint if I lie here any longer,” he said at last. 
“Now, John, do you go out of the room, and don’t come back 
again until I call you. I see you have put the vinegar handy. 
It is certain that if this is doing me any good the blankets 
will be infected. You say you have got a big fire in the 
kitchen. Well, I shall take them myself, and hang them up 
in front of it, and you are not to go into the room till they are 
perfectly dry again. You had better light another fire at once 
in the parlour, and you can do any cooking there. I will 
keep the kitchen for my blankets.” 

John nodded and left the room, and Cyril at once pro- 


SMITTEN DOWN 


299 


ceeded to unroll the blankets. As he came to the last he was 
conscious of a strong fetid odour, similar to that he had more 
than once perceived in houses infected by the Plague. 

“^believe it is drawing it out of me,” he said to himself. 
“1 will give it another trial presently.” 

He first sponged himself with vinegar, and felt much re¬ 
freshed. He then wrapped himself up and lay down for a few 
minutes, for he felt strangely weak. Then he got up and 
carried the blankets into the kitchen, where a huge fire had 
been made up by John. He threw the one that had been 
next to him into a tub, and poured boiling water on it, and 
the others he hung on chairs round it. Then he went back 
to his room, and lay down and slept for half an hour. He 
returned to the kitchen and rearranged the blankets. When 
John saw him go back to his room he followed him. 

“I have got some strong broth ready,” he said. “Do you 
think that you could take a cupful? ” 

“Ay, and a good-sized one, John. I feel sure that the 
sweating has done me good, and I will have another turn at it 
soon. You must go at once and report that I have got it, or 
when the examiners come round, and find that the Plague is 
in the house, you will be fined, or perhaps imprisoned. Be¬ 
fore you go there, please leave word at Dr. Hodges’ that I am 
ill, and you might also call at Mr. Wallace’s and leave the 
same message. Tell them, in both cases, that I have, every¬ 
thing that I want, and trust that I shall make a good recovery.” 

“Ay, ay, sir; I will be off as soon as I have brought you in 
your broth, and will be back here in half an hour.” 

Cyril drank the broth, and then dozed again until John 
returned. When he heard his step he called out to him to 
bring the hot iron, and he filled the room with tobacco smoke 
before allowing him to enter. 

“Now, John, the blankets are dry, and can be handled 
again, and I am ready for another cooking.” 

Four times that day did Cyril undergo the sweating process. 
By the evening he was as weak as a child, but his skin was 


300 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


soft and cool, and he was free from all feeling of pain or 
uneasiness. Dr. Hodges called half an hour after he had 
taken it for the last time, having only received his message 
when he returned late from a terrible day’s work. Cyril had 
just turned in for the night. 

“Well, lad, how are you feeling? I am so sorry that I did 
not get your message before.” 

“I am feeling very well, doctor.” 

“ Your hand is moist and cool,” Dr. Hodges said in surprise. 
“You must have been mistaken. I see no signs whatever of 
the Plague.” 

“There was no mistake, doctor; there were the black marks 
on my thighs, but I think I have pretty well sweated it out 
of me.” 

He then described the process he had followed, and said 
that John Wilkes had told him that it was practised in the 
Levant. 

“ Sweating is greatly used here, and I have tried it very re¬ 
peatedly among my patients, and in some cases, where I had 
notice of the disease early, have saved them. Some bleed 
before sweating, but I have not heard of one who did so who 
recovered. In many cases the patient, from terror or from 
weakness of body, cannot get up the heat required, and even 
if they arrive at it, have not the strength to support it. In 
your case you lost no time; you had vital heat in plenty, and 
you had strength to keep up the heat in full force until you 
washed, as it were, the malady out of you. Henceforth I 
shall order that treatment with confidence when patients come 
to me whom I suspect to have the Plague, although it may 
not have as yet fully declared itself. What have you done 
with the blankets? ” 

“ I would not suffer John to touch them, but carried them 
myself into the kitchen. The blankets next to me I throw 
into a tub and pour boiling water over them; the others I 
hang up before a huge fire, so as to be dry for the next opera¬ 
tion. I take care that John does not enter the kitchen.” 


SMITTEN DOWN 


301 


“How often have you done this? ” 

“ Four times, and lay each time for an hour in the blankets. 
I feel very weak, and must have lost very many pounds in 
weight, but my head is clear, and I suffer no pain whatever. 
The marks on my legs have not spread, and seem to me less 
dark in colour than they were.” 

“Your case is the most hopeful that I have seen,” Dr. 
Hodges said. “The system has had every advantage, and to 
this it owes its success. In the first place, you began it as 
soon as you felt unwell. Most people would have gone on for 
another twelve hours before they paid much attention to the 
first symptoms, and might not have noticed the Plague marks 
even when they went to bed. In the second place, you are 
cool and collected, and voluntarily delivered yourself to the 
treatment. And in the third place, which is the most impor¬ 
tant perhaps of all, you were in good health generally. You 
had not weakened yourself by swallowing every nostrum adver¬ 
tised, or wearing yourself out by vain terrors. Ninety-nine 
cases out of a hundred would be probably beyond the reach 
of help before they were conscious of illness, and be too weak 
to stand so severe a strain on the system as that you have 
undergone. Another thing is that the remedy could hardly be 
attempted in a house full of frightened people. There would 
be sure to be carelessness in the matter of the blankets, which, 
unless treated as you have done, would be a certain means of 
spreading the infection over the house. At any rate, I would 
continue the sweating as long as you can possibly stand it. 
Take nourishment in the shape of broth frequently, but in 
small quantity. I would do it again at midnight; ’tis well 
not to let the virus have time to gather strength again. I see 
you have faith in tobacco.” 

“Yes, doctor. I never let John Wilkes into the room after 
I have taken a bath until it is full of tobacco smoke. I have 
twice made myself ill with it to-day.” 

“Don’t carry it too far, lad; for although I also believe in 
the virtue of the weed, ’tis a powerful poison, and you do not 


302 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


want to weaken yourself. Well, I see I can do nothing for 
you. You and your man seem to me to have treated the attack 
far more successfully than I should have done; for, indeed, 
this month very few of those attacked have recovered, what¬ 
ever the treatment has been. I shall come round early to¬ 
morrow morning to see how you are going on. At present 
nothing can be better. Since the first outbreak, I have not 
seen a single case in which the patient was in so fair a way 
towards recovery in so short a time after the discovery of the 
infection.” 

John Wilkes at this moment came in with a basin of 
broth. 

“This is my good friend, John Wilkes, doctor.” 

“You ought to be called Dr. John Wilkes,” the doctor, who 
was one of the most famous of his time, said, with a smile, 
as he shook hands with him. “Your treatment seems to be 
doing wonders.” 

“It seems to me he is doing well, doctor, but I am afraid 
he is carrying it too far; he is so weak he can hardly stand.” 

“Never mind that,” the doctor said; “it will be easy 
enough to build him up when we have once got the Plague 
out of him. I have told him to have another turn in the 
blankets at twelve o’clock to-night; it will not do to let the 
malady get a fresh hold of him. But don’t push it too far, 
lad. If you begin to feel faint, stop it, even if you have not 
been a quarter of an hour in the blankets. Do not cover your¬ 
self up too warmly when you have done; let nature have a 
rest. I shall be round between eight and nine, and no doubt 
you will have had another bath before I come. Do not sleep 
in the room, Wilkes; he is sure to go off soundly to sleep, 
and there is no use your running any needless risk. Let his 
window stand open; indeed, it should always be open, except 
when he gets out of his blankets, or is fumigating the room. 
Let him have a chair by the open window, so as to get as 
much fresh air as possible; but be sure that he is warmly 
wrapped up with blankets, so as to avoid getting a chill. 




SMITTEN DOWN 


303 


You might place a hand-bell by the side of his bed to-night, 
so that he can summons you should he have occasion.” 

When the doctor came next morning he nodded approvingly 
as soon as he felt Cyril’s hand. 

“Nothing could be better,” he said; “your pulse is even 
quieter than last night. Now let me look at those spots.” 

“They are fainter,” Cyril said. 

“A great deal,” Dr. Hodges said, in a tone of the greatest 
pleasure. “Thank God, my lad, it is dying out. Not above 
three or four times since the Plague began have I been able 
to say so. I shall go about my work with a lighter heart to¬ 
day, and shall order your treatment in every case where I see 
the least chance of its being carried out, but I cannot hope 
that it will often prove as successful as it has with you. You 
have had everything in your favour — youth, a good constitu¬ 
tion, a tranquil mind, an absence of fear, and a faith in God.” 

“And a good attendant, doctor — don’t forget that.” 

“ No, that goes for a great deal, lad — for a great deal. 
Not ore nurse out of a hundred would carry out my instruc¬ 
tions carefully; not one patient in a thousand would be able 
to see that they were carried out. Of course you will keep 
on with the treatment, but do not push it to extremes; you 
have pulled yourself down prodigiously, and must not go too 
far. Do you perceive any change in the odour when you take 
off the blankets? ” 

“Yes, doctor, a great change; I could scarcely distinguish it 
this morning, and indeed allowed John Wilkes to carry them 
out, as I don’t think I myself could have walked as far as the 
kitchen, though it is but ten or twelve paces away. I told 
him to smoke furiously all the time, and to come out of the 
kitchen as soon as he had hung them up.” 

Cyril took three more baths in the course of the day, but 
was only able to sustain them for twenty minutes each, as by 
the end of that time he nearly fainted. The doctor came in 
late in the evening. 

“The spots are gone, doctor,” Cyril said. 


304 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“ Then I think you may consider yourself cured, lad. Do 
not take the treatment again to-night; you can take it once 
in the morning; and then if I find the spots have not reap¬ 
peared by the time I come, I shall pronounce the cure as 
complete, and shall begin to build you up again.” 

The doctor was able to give this opinion in the morning. 

“ I shall not come again, lad, unless you send for me, for 
every moment of my time is very precious, and I shall leave 
you in the hands of Dr. Wilkes. All you want now is 
nourishment; but take it carefully at first, and not too much 
at a time; stick to broths for the next two or three days, and 
when you do begin with solids do so very sparingly.” 

“There was a gentleman here yesterday asking about you,” 
John Wilkes said, as Cyril, propped up in bed, sipped his 
broth. “ It was Mr. Harvey. He rang at the bell, and I 
went down to the lower window and talked to him through 
that, for of course the watchman would not let me go out and 
speak to him. I had heard you speak of him as one of the 
gentlemen you met at the minister’s, and he seemed muchly 
interested in you. He said that you had done him a great 
service, and of course I knew it was by frightening that robber 
away. I never saw a man more pleased than he was when I 
told him that the doctor thought you were as good as cured, 
and he thanked God very piously for the same. After he had 
done that, he asked me first whether you had said anything to 
me about him. I said that you had told me you had met him 
and his wife at the minister’s, and that you said you had dis¬ 
turbed a robber you found at his house. He said, quite sharp, 

‘ Nothing more? ’ ‘No, not as I can think of. He is always 
doing good to somebody,’ says I, ‘and never a word would he 
say about it, if it did not get found out somehow. Why, he 
saved Prince Rupert’s ship from being blown up by a fire- 
vessel, and never should we have known of it if young Lord 
Oliphant had not written to the Captain telling him all about 
it, and saying that it was the gallantest feat done in the battle. 
Then there were other things, but they were of the nature of 


SMITTEN DOWN 


305 


private affairs.’ ‘ You can tell me about them, my good man,’ 
he said; ‘I am no vain babbler; and as you may well believe, 
from what he did for me, and for other reasons, I would fain 
know as much as I can of him.’ So then I told him about 
how you found out about the robbery and saved master from 
being ruined, and how you prevented Miss Nellie from going 
off with a rascal who pretended he was an earl.” 

“Then you did very wrong, John,” Cyril said angrily. “I 
say naught about your speaking about the robbery, for that 
was told in open Court, but you ought not, on any account, 
to have said a word about Mistress Nellie’s affairs.” 

“Well, your honour, I doubt not Mistress Nellie herself 
would have told the gentleman had she been in my place. I 
am sure he can be trusted not to let it go further. I took care 
to tell him what good it had done Mistress Nellie, and that 
good had come out of evil.” 

“Well, you ought not to have said anything about it, John. 
It may be that Mistress Nellie out of her goodness of heart 
might herself have told, but that is no reason why anyone else 
should do so. I charge you in future never to open your lips 
about that to anyone, no matter who. I say not that any 
harm will come of it in this case, for Mr. Harvey is indeed 
a sober and God-fearing man, and assuredly asked only be¬ 
cause he felt an interest in me, and from no idle curiosity. 
Still, I would rather that he had not known of a matter touch¬ 
ing the honour of Mistress Nellie.” 

“Mum’s the word in future, Master Cyril. I will keep the 
hatches fast down on my tongue. Now I will push your bed 
up near the window as the doctor ordered, and then I hope 
you will get a good long sleep.” 

The Plague and the process by which it had been expelled 
had left Cyril so weak that it was some days before he could 
walk across the room. Every morning he inquired anxiously 
of John how he felt, and the answer was always satisfactory. 
John had never been better in his life; therefore, by the time 
Cyril was able to walk to his easy-chair by the window, he 

u 


306 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


began to hope that John had escaped the infection, which 
generally declared itself within a day or two, and often within 
a few hours, of the first outbreak in a house. 

A week later the doctor, who paid him a flying visit every 
two or three days, gave him the welcome news that he had 
ordered the red cross to be removed from the door, and the 
watchmen to cease their attendance, as the house might now 
be considered altogether free from infection. 

The Plague continued its ravages with but slight abatement, 
moving gradually eastward, and Aldgate and the district lying 
east of the walls were now suffering terribly. It was nearly 
the end of September before Cyril was strong enough to go 
out for his first walk. Since the beginning of August some 
fifty thousand people had been carried off, so that the streets 
were now almost entirely deserted, and in many places the 
grass was shooting up thickly in the road. In some streets 
every house bore the sign of a red cross, and the tolling of the 
bells of the dead-carts and piteous cries and lamentations 
were the only sounds that broke the strange silence. 

The scene was so disheartening that Cyril did not leave the 
house again for another fortnight. His first visit was to Mr. 
Wallace. The sight of a watchman at the door gave him quite 
a shock, and he was grieved indeed when he heard from the 
man that the brave minister had died a fortnight before. 
Then he went to Mr. Harvey’s. There was no mark on the 
door, but his repeated knockings met with no response, and 
a woman, looking out from a window opposite, called to him 
that the house had been empty for well-nigh a month, and the 
people that were in it had gone off in a cart, she supposed 
into the country. 

“There was a gentleman and lady,” she said, “who seemed 
well enough, and their servant, who was carried down and 
placed in the cart. It could not have been the Plague, though 
the man looked as if he had been sorely ill.” 

The next day he called on Dr. Hodges, who had not been 
near him for the last month. There was no watchman at the 
door, and his man opened it. 


SMITTEN DOWN 


307 


“Can I see the doctor?” 

“Ay, you can see him,” he said; “he is cured now, and 
will soon be about again.” 

“ Has he had the Plague, then? ” 

“That he has, but it is a week now since the watchman 
left.” 

Cyril went upstairs. The doctor was sitting, looking pale 
and thin, by the window. 

“ I am grieved indeed to hear that you have been ill, doc¬ 
tor,” Cyril said; “had I known it I should have come a fort¬ 
night since, for I was strong enough to walk this distance 
then. I did indeed go out, but the streets had so sad an 
aspect that I shrank from stirring out again.” 

“Yes, I have had it,” the doctor said. “Directly I felt it 
come on I followed your system exactly, but it had gone fur¬ 
ther with me than it had with you, and it was a week before I 
fairly drove the enemy out. I ordered sweating in every 
case, but, as you know, they seldom sent for me until too 
late, and it is rare that the system got a fair chance. How¬ 
ever, in my case it was a complete success. Two of my ser¬ 
vants died; they were taken when I was at my worst. Both 
were dead before I was told of it. The man you saw was the 
one who waited on me, and as I adopted all the same 
precautions you had taken with your man, he did not catch 
it, and it was only when he went downstairs one day and 
found the other two servants lying dead in the kitchen that he 
knew they had been ill.” 

“Mr. Wallace has gone, you will be sorry to hear, sir.” 

“I am sorry,” the doctor said; “but no one was more fitted 
to die. He was a brave man and a true Christian, but he ran 
too many risks, and your news does not surprise me.” 

“The only other friends I have, Mr. Harvey and his wife, 
went out of town a month ago, taking with them their ser¬ 
vant.” 

“Yes; I saw them the day before I was taken ill,” the 
doctor said, “ and told them that the man was so far out of 


308 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


danger that he might safely be moved. They seemed very 
interested in you, and were very pleased when I told them 
that I had now given up attending you, and that you were 
able to walk across the room, and would, erelong, be your¬ 
self again. I hope we are getting to the end of it now, lad. 
As the Plague travels East it abates in the West, and the re¬ 
turns for the last week show a distinct fall in the rate of mor¬ 
tality. There is no further East for it to go now, and I hope 
that in another few weeks it will have worn itself out. We 
are half through October, and may look for cold weather be¬ 
fore long.” 

“ I should think that I am strong enough to be useful again 
now, sir.” 

“I don’t think you are strong enough, and I am sure I 
shall not give you leave to do so,” the doctor said. “I can 
hardly say how far a first attack is a protection against a 
second, for the recoveries have been so few that we have 
scarce means of knowing, but there certainly have been cases 
where persons have recovered from a first attack and died 
from a second. Your treatment is too severe to be gone 
through twice, and it is, therefore, more essential that you 
should run no risk of infection than it was before. I can see 
that you are still very far from strong, and your duty now is, 
in the first place, to regain your health. I should say get on 
board a hoy and go to Yarmouth. A week in the bracing air 
there would do you more good than six months here. But it 
is useless to give you that advice, because, in the first place, 
no shipping comes up the river, and, even if you could get 
down to Yarmouth by road, no one would receive you. Still, 
that is what I should do myself as soon as I could get away, 
were it not that, in my case, I have my duties here.” 

“ But, doctor, what you said to me surely applies to your¬ 
self also?” Cyril said, with a smile. 

“I know that,” the doctor said good-humouredly, “and 
expected it, but it is not for a doctor to choose. He is not 
free, like other men; he has adopted a vocation in which it 


SMITTEN DOWN 


309 


is his first duty to go among the sick, whatever their ailment 
may be, to do all that he can for them, and if, as in the pres¬ 
ent case, he can do practically nothing else, to set them an 
example of calmness and fearlessness. Still, for a time, at 
any rate, I shall be able to go no more into houses where the 
Plague is raging. ’Tis more than a month since you were 
cured, yet you are still a mere shadow of what you were. I 
had a much harder fight with the enemy, and cannot walk 
across the room yet without William’s help. Therefore, it 
will be a fortnight or three weeks yet before I can see pa¬ 
tients, and much longer before I shall have strength to visit 
them in their houses. By. that time I trust that the Plague 
will have very greatly abated. Thus, you see, I shall not be 
called upon to stand face to face with it for some time. 
Those who call upon me here are seldom Plague-stricken. 
They come for other ailments, or because they feel unwell, 
and are nervous lest it should be the beginning of an attack; 
but of late I have had very few come here. My patients are 
mostly of the middle class, and these have either fled or 
fallen victims to the Plague, or have shut themselves up in 
their houses like fortresses, and nothing would tempt them to 
issue abroad. Therefore, I expect that I shall have naught to 
do but to gain strength again. Come here when you will, lad, 
and the oftener the better. Conversation is the best medicine 
for both of us, and as soon as I can I will visit you. I doubt 
not that John Wilkes has many a story of the sea that will take 
our thoughts away from this sad city. Bring him with you 
sometimes; he is an honest fellow, and the talk of sailors so 
smacks of the sea that it seems almost to act as a tonic.” 

Cyril stayed for an hour, and promised to return on the 
following evening. He said, however, that he was sure John 
Wilkes would not accompany him. 

“ He never leaves the house unless I am in it. He con¬ 
siders himself on duty; and although, as I tell him, there is 
little fear of anyone breaking in, seeing how many houses 
with much more valuable and more portable goods are empty 


310 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


and deserted, he holds to his purpose, saying that, even with 
the house altogether empty, it would be just as much his duty 
to remain in charge.” 

“Well, come yourself, Cyril. If we cannot get this old 
watch-dog out I must wait until I can go to him.” 

“I shall be very glad to come, doctor, for time hangs 
heavily on my hands. John Wilkes spends hours every day 
in washing and scrubbing decks, as he calls it, and there are 
but few books in the house.” 

“As to that, I can furnish you, and will do so gladly. Go 
across to the shelves there, and choose for yourself.” 

“Thank you very much indeed, sir. But will you kindly 
choose for me? I have read but few English books, for of 
course in France my reading was entirely French.” 

“Then take Shakespeare. I hold his writings to be the 
finest in our tongue. I know them nearly by heart, for there 
is scarce an evening when I do not take him down for an 
hour, and reading him I forget the worries and cares of my 
day’s work, which would otherwise often keep me from sleep. 
’Tis a bulky volume, but do not let that discourage you; it is 
full of wit and wisdom, and of such romance that you will 
often find it hard to lay it down. Stay— I have two editions, 
and can well spare one of them, so take the one on that upper 
shelf, and keep it when you have read it. There is but little 
difference between them, but I generally use the other, and 
have come to look upon it as a friend.” 

“Nay, sir, I will take it as a loan.” 

“You will do nothing of the sort. I owe you a fee, and a 
bumping one.” 

Henceforth Cyril did not find his time hang heavy on his 
hands. It seemed to him, as he sat at the window and read, 
that a new world opened to him. His life had been an emi¬ 
nently practical one. He had studied hard in France, and 
when he laid his books aside his time had been spent in the 
open air. It was only since he had been with Captain Dave 
that he had ever read for amusement, and the Captain’s library 


SMITTEN DOWN 


311 


consisted only of a few books of travels and voyages. He 
had never so much as dreamt of a book like this, and for the 
next few days he devoured its pages. 

“You are not looking so well, Cyril,” Dr. Hodges said to 
him abruptly one day. 

“I am doing nothing but reading Shakespeare, doctor.” 

“Then you are doing wrong, lad. You will never build 
yourself up unless you take exercise.” 

“ The streets are so melancholy, doctor, and whenever I go 
out I return sick at heart and in low spirits.” 

“That I can understand, lad. But we must think of some¬ 
thing,” and he sat for a minute or two in silence. Then he 
said suddenly, “ Do you understand the management of a 
boat?” 

“Yes, doctor; it was my greatest pleasure at Dunkirk to be 
out with the fishermen.” 

“That will do, then. Go down at once to the riverside. 
There are hundreds of boats lying idle there, for there are no 
passengers and no trade, and half of their owners are dead. 
You are sure to see some men there; having nothing else to 
do, some will be hanging about. Say you want to hire a 
boat for a couple of months or to buy one. You will probably 
get one for a few shillings. Get one with a sail as well as 
oars. Go out the first thing after breakfast, and go up or 
down the river as the tide or wind may suit. Take some 
bread and meat with you, and don’t return till supper-time. 
Then you can spend your evenings with Shakespeare. Maybe 
I myself will come down and take a sail with you sometimes. 
That will bring the colour back into your cheeks, and make a 
new man of you. Would that I had thought of it before! ” 

Cyril was delighted with the idea, and, going down to 
Blackfriars, bought a wherry with a sail for a pound. Its 
owner was dead, but he learned where the widow lived, and 
effected the bargain without difficulty, for she was almost 
starving. 

“I have bought it,” he said, “because it may be that I may 


312 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


get it damaged or sunk; but I only need it for six weeks or 
two months, and at the end of that time I will give it you 
back again. As soon as the Plague is over there will be work 
for boats, and you will be able to let it, or to sell it at a fair 
price.” 

John Wilkes was greatly pleased when Cyril came back and 
told him what he had done. 

“That is the very thing for you,” he said. “I have been a 
thick-head not to think of it. I have been worrying for the 
last week at seeing you sit there and do nothing but read, and 
yet there seemed nothing else for you to do, for ten minutes 
out in the streets is enough to give one the heartache. Maybe 
I will go out for a sail with you myself sometimes, for there 
is no fear of the house being broken into by daylight.” 

“ Not in the slightest, John. I hope that you will come out 
with me always. I should soon find it dull by myself, and 
besides, I don’t think that I am strong enough yet to manage 
a pair of sculls for long, and one must reckon occasionally on 
having to row against the tide. Even if the worst happened, 
and anyone did break in and carry off a few things, I am sure 
Captain Dave would not grumble at the loss when he knew 
that I had wanted you to come out and help me to manage 
the boat, which I was ordered to use for my health’s sake.” 

“That he wouldn’t,” John said heartily; “not if they 
stripped the house and shop of everything there was in 
them.” 




CHAPTER XVIII 

A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE 

H AVING finally disposed of John Wilkes’s scruples as to 
leaving the house during the daytime, Cyril thenceforth 
went out with him every day. If the tide was in flood they 
rowed far up the river, and came down on the ebb. If it was 
running out they went down as far as it would take them. 
Whenever the wind was favourable they hoisted the sail; at 
other times, they rowed. The fresh air, and the exercise, 
soon did their work. Cyril at first could only take one scull, 
and that only for a short time, but at the end of a fortnight 
was able to manage both for a time, or to row with one for 
hours. The feeling of lassitude which had oppressed him 
passed away speedily, the colour came back to his cheeks, his 
muscles strengthened, and he began to put on flesh. 

They were now in November, and needed warm garments 
when on the water, and John insisted on completely muffling 
him up whenever they hoisted the sail; but the colder weather 
braced him up, and he was often inclined to shout with pleas¬ 
ure as the wind drove the boat along before it. 

It was cheering to know that others were benefiting by the 
change. In the week ending October 3rd the deaths officially 
given were 4,328, though at least another thousand must be 
added to this, for great numbers of deaths from the Plague 
were put down to other causes, and very many, especially 
those of infants, were never counted at all. It was said that 
as many people were infected as ever, but that the virulence 

313 







314 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


of the disease was abated, and that, whereas in August scarce 
one of those attacked recovered, in October but one out of 
every three died of the malady. 

In the second week of October, the number of deaths by 
the Plague was but 2,665, and only 1,250 in the third week, 
though great numbers were still attacked. People, however, 
grew careless, and ran unnecessary risks, and, in consequence, 
in the first week of" November the number of deaths rose by 
400. After this it decreased rapidly, and the people who had 
fled began to come back again — the more so because it had 
now spread to other large cities, and it seemed that there was 
less danger in London, where it had spent its force, than in 
places where it had but lately broken out. The shops began 
to open again, and the streets to reassume their former ap¬ 
pearance. 

Cyril had written several times to Captain Dowsett, telling 
him how matters were going on, and in November, hearing 
that they were thinking of returning, he wrote begging them 
not to do so. 

“Many of those who have returned have fallen sick, and 
died,” he said. “It seems to me but a useless risk of life, 
after taking so much pains to avoid infection, to hurry back 
before the danger has altogether passed. In your case, Cap¬ 
tain Dave, there is the less reason for it, since there is no 
likelihood of the shipping trade being renewed for the present. 
All the ports of Europe are closed to our ships, and it is like 
to be a long time before they lose fear of us. Even the coasting 
trade is lost for the present. Therefore, my advice is very 
strongly against your returning for some weeks. All is going 
on well here. I am getting quite strong again, and, by the 
orders of the doctor, go out with John daily for a long row, and 
have gained much benefit from it. John sends his respects. 
He says that everything is ship-shape above and below, and the 
craft holding well on her way. He also prays you not to think 
of returning at present, and says that it would be as bad seaman¬ 
ship, as for a captain who has made a good offing in a gale, and 


A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE 


315 


has plenty of sea-room, to run down close to a rocky shore 
under the lee, before the storm has altogether blown itself out.” 

Captain Dave took the advice, and only returned with his 
wife and Nellie a week before Christmas. 

“I am glad indeed to be back,” he said, after the first 
greetings were over. “ ’Twas well enough for the women, 
who used to help in the dairy, and to feed the fowls, and 
gather the eggs, and make the butter, but for me there was 
nothing to do, and it seemed as if the days would never come 
to an end.” 

“It was not so bad as that, father,” Nellie said. “First of 
all, you had your pipe to smoke. Then, once a week you 
used to go over with the market-cart to Gloucester and to look 
at the shipping there, and talk with the masters and sailors. 
Then, on a Sunday, of course, there was church. So there 
were only five days each week to get through; and you know 
you took a good deal of interest in the horses and cows 
and pigs.” 

“I tried to take an interest in them, Nellie; but it was very 
hard work.” 

“Well, father, that is just what you were saying you wanted, 
and I am sure you spent hours every day walking about with 
the children, or telling them stories.” 

“Well, perhaps, when I think of it, it was not so very bad 
after all,” Captain Dave admitted. “At any rate, I am 
heartily glad I am back here again. We will open the shop 
to-morrow morning, John.” 

“That we will, master. We sha’n’t do much trade at pres¬ 
ent. Still, a few coasters have come in, and I hope that every 
day things will get better. Besides, all the vessels that have 
been lying in the Pool since June will want painting up and 
getting into trim again before they sail out of the river, so 
things may not be so slack after all. You will find everything 
in order in the store. I have had little to do but to polish 
up brass work and keep the metal from rusting. When do 
the apprentices come back again? ” 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


316 


“ I shall write for them as soon as I find that there is some¬ 
thing for them to do. You are not thinking of running away 
as soon as we come back I hope, Cyril? You said, when you 
last wrote, that you were fit for sea again.” 

“ I am not thinking of going for some little time, if you 
will keep me, Captain Dave. There is no news of the Fleet 
fitting out at present, and they will not want us on board till 
they are just ready to start. They say that Albemarle is to 
command this time instead of the Duke, at which I am right 
glad, for he has fought the Dutch at sea many times, and 
although not bred up to the trade, he has shown that he can 
fight as steadily on sea as on land. All say the Duke showed 
courage and kept a firm countenance at Lowestoft, but there 
was certainly great slackness in the pursuit, though this, ’tis 
said, was not so much his fault as that of those who were over¬ 
careful of his safety. Still, as he is the heir to the throne, it 
is but right that he should be kept out of the fighting.” 

“ It is like to be stern work next time, Cyril, if what I hear 
be true. Owing partly to all men’s minds being occupied by 
the Plague, and partly to the great sums wasted by the King 
in his pleasures, nothing whatever has been done for the 
Fleet. Of course, the squadron at sea has taken great num¬ 
bers of prizes; but the rest of the Fleet is laid up, and no new 
ships are being built, while they say that the Dutch are busy 
in all their ship-yards, and will send out a much stronger fleet 
this spring than that which fought us at Lowestoft. I sup¬ 
pose you have not heard of any of your grand friends? ” 

“No. I should have written to Sydney Oliphant, but I 
knew not whether he was at sea or at home, and, moreover, I 
read that most folks in the country are afraid of letters from 
London, thinking that they might carry contagion. Many 
noblemen have now returned to the West End, and when I 
hear that the Earl has also come back with his family it will, 
of course, be my duty to wait upon him, and on Prince Rupert 
also. But I hope the Prince will not be back yet, for he will 
be wanting me to go to Court again, and for this, in truth, I 


A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE 


317 


have no inclination, and, moreover, it cannot be done without 
much expense for clothes, and I have no intention to go into 
expenses on follies or gew-gaws, or to trench upon the store 
of money that I had from you, Captain Dave.” 

They had just finished breakfast on the day before Christ¬ 
mas, when one of the apprentices came up from the shop and 
said that one Master Goldsworthy, a lawyer in the Temple, 
desired to speak to Sir Cyril Shenstone. Cyril was about to 
go down when Captain Dave said,— 

“Show the gentleman up, Susan. We will leave you here 
to him, Cyril.” 

“By no means,” Cyril said. “I do not know him, and he 
can assuredly have no private business with me that you may 
not hear.” 

Mrs. Dowsett and her daughter, however, left the room. 
The lawyer, a grave-looking gentleman of some fifty years of 
age, glanced at Cyril and the Captain as he entered the room, 
and then advanced towards the former. 

“My name is unknown to you, Sir Cyril,” he said, “but it 
has been said that a bearer of good news needs no introduc¬ 
tion, and I come in that capacity. I bring you, sir, a 
Christmas-box,” and he took from a bag he carried a bundle 
of some size, and a letter. “Before you open it, sir, I will 
explain the character of its contents, which would take you 
some time to decipher and understand, while I can explain 
them in a very few words. I may tell you that I am the legal 
adviser of Mr. Ebenezer Harvey, of Upmead Court, Norfolk. 
You are, I presume, familiar with the name?” 

Cyril started. Upmead Court was the name of his father’s 
place, but with the name of its present owner he was not 
familiar. Doubtless, he might sometimes have heard it from 
his father, but the latter, when he spoke of the present posses¬ 
sor of the Court, generally did so as “that Roundhead dog,” 
or “that canting Puritan.” 

“The Court I know, sir,” he said gravely, “as having once 
been my father’s, but I do not recall the name of its present 


318 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


owner, though it may be that in my childhood my father men¬ 
tioned it in-my hearing.” 

“Nevertheless, sir, you know the gentleman himself, having 
met him, as he tells me, frequently at the house of Mr. Wal¬ 
lace, who was minister of the chapel at which he worshipped, 
and who came up to London to minister to those sorely 
afflicted and needing comfort. Not only did you meet with 
Mr. Harvey and* his wife, but you rendered to them very 
material service.” 

“I was certainly unaware,” Cyril said, “that Mr. Harvey 
was the possessor of what had been my father’s estate, but, 
had I known it, it would have made no difference in my feel¬ 
ing towards him. I found him a kind and godly gentleman 
whom, more than others there, was good enough to converse 
frequently with me, and to whom I was pleased to be of 
service.” 

“The service was of a most important nature,” the lawyer 
said, “being nothing less than the saving of his life, and 
probably that of his wife. He sent for me the next morning, 
and then drew out his will. By that will he left to you the 
estates which he had purchased from your father.” 

Cyril gave a start of surprise, and would have spoken, but 
Master Goldsworthy held up his hand, and said,— 

“ Please let me continue my story to the end. This act was 
not the consequence of the service that you had rendered him. 
He had previously consulted me on the subject, and stated 
his intentions to me. He had met you at Mr. Wallace’s, and 
at once recognised your name, and learnt from Mr. Wallace 
that you were the son of Sir Aubrey Shenstone. He studied 
your character, had an interview with Dr. Hodges, and learnt 
how fearlessly you were devoting yourself to the work of aid¬ 
ing those stricken with the Plague. With his own son he had 
reason for being profoundly dissatisfied. The young man had 
thrown off his authority, had become a notorious reprobate, 
and had, he believed, sunk down to become a companion of 
thieves and highwaymen. He had come up to London solely to 


A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE 


319 


make a last effort to save him from his evil courses and to 
give him a chance of reformation by sending him out to New 
England. 

“Mr. Harvey is possessed of considerable property in addi¬ 
tion to the estates purchased of your father, for, previous to 
that purchase he had been the owner of large tanneries at 
Norwich, which he has ever since maintained, not so much 
for the sake of the income he derived from them as because 
they afforded a livelihood to a large number of workmen. 
He had, therefore, ample means to leave to his son, should 
the latter accept his offer and reform his life, without the 
estates of Upmead. When he saw you, he told me his con¬ 
science was moved. He had, of course, a legal right to the 
estates, but he had purchased them for a sum not exceeding 
a fifth of their value, and he considered that in the twenty 
years he had held them he had drawn from them sums amply 
sufficient to repay him for the price he had given for them, 
and had received a large interest on the money in addition. 
He questioned, therefore, strongly whether he had any right 
longer to retain them. 

“When he consulted me on the subject, he alluded to the 
fact that, by the laws of the Bible, persons who bought lands 
were bound to return the land to its former possessors, at the 
end of seven times seven years. He had already, then, made 
up his mind to leave that portion of his property to you, when 
you rendered him that great service, and at the same time it 
became, alas! but too evident to him that his son was hope¬ 
lessly bad, and that any money whatever left to him would 
assuredly be spent in evil courses, and would do evil rather 
than good. Therefore, when I came in the morning to him 
he said,— 

My will must be made immediately. Not one penny is 
to go to my son. I may be carried off to-morrow by the 
Plague, or my son may renew his attempt with success. So I 
must will it away from him at once. For the moment, there¬ 
fore, make a short will bequeathing the estate of Upmead to 


320 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


Sir Cyril Shenstone, all my other possessions to my wife for 
her lifetime, and at her death also to Sir Cyril Shenstone. 

“ ‘ I may alter this later on, ’ he said, ‘ but for the present I 
desire chiefly to place them beyond my son’s reach. Please 
draw up the document at once, for no one can say what half 
an hour may bring forth to either of us. Get the document 
in form by this evening, when some friends will be here to 
witness it. Pray bring your two clerks also! ’ 

“ A few days later he called upon me again. 

“‘I have been making further inquiries about Sir Cyril 
Shenstone,’ he said, ‘and have learnt much concerning him 
from a man who is in the employment of the trader with whom 
he lives. What I have learnt more than confirms me in my 
impression of him. He came over from France, three years 
ago, a boy of scarce fourteen. He was clever at figures, and 
supported his reprobate father for the last two years of his life 
by keeping the books of small traders in the City. So much 
was he esteemed that, at his father’s death, Captain Dowsett 
offered him a home in his house. He rewarded the kindness 
by making the discovery that the trader was being foully 
robbed, and brought about the arrest of the thieves, which 
incidentally led to the breaking-up of one of the worst gangs 
of robbers in London. Later on he found that his employer’s 
daughter was in communication with a hanger-on of the 
Court, who told her that he was a nobleman. The young 
fellow set a watch upon her, came upon her at the moment 
she was about to elope with this villain, ran him through the 
shoulder, and took her back to her home, and so far respected 
her secret that her parents would never have known of it had 
she not, some time afterwards, confessed it to them. That 
villain, Mr. Goldsworthy,’ he said, ‘was my son! Just after 
that Sir Cyril obtained the good will of the Earl of Wisbech, 
whose three daughters he saved from being burnt to death at 
a fire in the Savoy. Thus, you see, this youth is in every way 
worthy of good fortune, and can be trusted to administer the 
estate of his fathers worthily and well. I wish you to draw 


A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE 


321 


out, at once, a deed conveying to him these estates, and re¬ 
hearsing that, having obtained them at a small price, and 
having enjoyed them for a time long enough to return to me 
the money I paid for them with ample interest thereon, I now 
return them to him, confident that they will be in good hands, 
and that their revenues will be worthily spent.’ 

“ In this parcel is the deed in question, duly signed and 
witnessed, together with the parchments, deeds, and titles of 
which he became possessed at his purchase of the estate. I 
may say, Sir Cyril, that I have never carried out a legal trans¬ 
fer with greater pleasure to myself, considering, as I do, that 
the transaction is alike just and honourable on his part and most 
creditable to yourself. He begged me to hand the deeds to 
you myself. They were completed two months since, but he 
himself suggested that I should bring them to you on Christ¬ 
mas Eve, when it is the custom for many to give to 
their friends tokens of their regard and good will. I congrat¬ 
ulate you heartily, sir, and rejoice that, for once, merit has 
met with a due reward.” 

“I do not know, sir,” Cyril replied, “how I can express my 
feelings of deep pleasure and gratitude at the wonderful tid¬ 
ings you have brought me. I had set it before me as the great 
object of my life, that, some day, should I live to be an old 
man, I might be enabled to repurchase the estate of my 
father’s. I knew how improbable it was that I should ever 
be able to do so, and I can scarce credit that what seemed 
presumptuous even as a hope should have thus been so 
strangely and unexpectedly realised. I certainly do not feel 
that it is in any way due to what you are good enough to call 
my merits, for in all these matters that you have spoken of 
there has been nothing out of the way, or, so far as I can see, 
in any way praiseworthy, in what I have done. It would 
seem, indeed, that in all these matters, and in the saving of 
my life from the Plague, things have arranged themselves so 
as to fall out for my benefit.” 

“That is what Mr. Harvey feels very strongly, Sir Cyril. 

x 


322 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


He has told me, over and over again, that it seemed to him 
that the finger of God was specially manifest in thus bringing 
you together, and in placing you in a position to save his life. 
And now I will take my leave. I may say that in all legal 
matters connected with the estate I have acted for Mr. Har¬ 
vey, and should be naturally glad if you will continue to 
entrust such matters to me. I have some special facilities in 
the matter, as Mr. Popham, a lawyer of Norwich, is married 
to my daughter, and we therefore act together in all business 
connected with the estate, he performing what may be called 
the local business, while I am advised by him as to matters 
requiring attention here in London.” 

“ I shall be glad indeed if you and Mr. Popham will con¬ 
tinue to act in the same capacity for me,” Cyril said warmly. 
“ I am, as you see, very young, and know nothing of the man¬ 
agement of an estate, and shall be grateful if you will, in all 
matters, act for me until I am of an age to assume the duties 
of the owner of Upmead.” 

“I thank you, Sir Cyril, and we shall, I trust, afford you 
satisfaction. The deed, you will observe, is dated the 29th 
of September, the day on which it was signed, though there 
have been other matters to settle. The tenants have already 
been notified that from that date they are to regard you as 
their landlord. Now that you authorise us to act for you, my 
son-in-law will at once proceed to collect the rents for this 
quarter. I may say that, roughly, they amount to seventeen 
hundred pounds a year, and as it may be a convenience to you 
to draw at once, if it so please you I will place, on Monday 
next, the sum of four hundred pounds to your credit with 
Messrs. Murchison and Graham, who are my bankers, or with 
any other firm you may prefer.” 

“With the bankers you name, by all means,” Cyril said; 
“ and I thank you heartily for so doing, for as I shall shortly 
rejoin the Fleet, a portion, at least, of the money will be very 
useful to me.” 

Mr. Goldsworthy took his hat. 


A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE 


323 


“There is one thing further I have forgotten. Mr. Harvey 
requested me to say that he wished for no thanks in this mat¬ 
ter. He regards it as an act of rightful restitution, and, 
although you will doubtless write to him, he would be pleased 
if you will abstain altogether from treating it as a gift.” 

“I will try to obey his wishes,” Cyril said, “but it does not 
seem to me that it will be possible for me to abstain from any 
expression of gratitude for his noble act.” 

Cyril accompanied the lawyer to the door, and then re¬ 
turned upstairs. 

“Now I can speak,” Captain Dowsett said. “I have had 
hard work to keep a stopper on my tongue all this time, for I 
have been well-nigh bursting to congratulate you. I wish you 
joy, my lad,” and he wrung Cyril’s hand heartily, “and a 
pleasant voyage through life. I am as glad, ay, and a deal 
more glad than if such a fortune had come in my way, for it 
would have been of little use to me, seeing I have all that the 
heart of man could desire.” 

He ran to the door and shouted loudly for his wife and 
daughter. 

“I have news for you both,” he said, as they came in. 
“What do you think? Cyril, like the King, has come to his 
own again, and he is now Sir Cyril Shenstone, the owner of 
the estate of Upmead.” 

Both broke into exclamations of surprise and pleasure. 

“How has the wonder come about?” Nellie asked, after 
the first congratulations were over. “What good fairy has 
brought this round ? ” , 

“The good fairy was the Mr. Harvey whose name Cyril once 
mentioned casually, and whose life, as it now appears, he 
saved, though he has said nothing to us about it. That gentle¬ 
man was, most strangely, the man who bought the estate from 
his father. He, it seems, is a wealthy man, and his con¬ 
science has for some time been pricked with the thought that 
he had benefited too largely from the necessities of Sir 
Aubrey, and that, having received back from the rents all the 


324 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


money he paid, and goodly interest thereon, he ought to 
restore the estate to its former owner. Possibly he might 
never have acted on this thought, but he considered the cir¬ 
cumstance that he had so strangley met Cyril here at the time 
of the Plague, and still more strangely that Cyril had saved 
his life, was a matter of more than chance, and was a direct 
and manifest interposition of Providence; and he has there¬ 
fore made restitution, and that parcel on the table contains a 
deed of gift to Cyril of all his father’s estates.” 

“He has done quite rightly,” Mrs. Dowsett said warmly, 
“though, indeed, it is not everyone who would see matters 
in that light. If men always acted in that spirit if would be 
a better world.” 

“Ay, ay, wife. There are not many men who, having got 
the best of a bargain, voluntarily resign the profits they have 
made. It is pleasant to come across one who so acts, more 
especially when one’s best friend is the gainer. Ah! Nellie, 
what a pity some good fairy did not tell you of what was com¬ 
ing! What a chance you have lost, girl! See what might 
have happened if you had set your cap at Cyril! ” 

“Indeed, it is terrible to think of,” Nellie laughed. “It 
was hard on me that he was not five or six years older. Then 
I might have done it, even if my good fairy had not whispered 
in my ear about this fortune. Never mind. I shall console 
myself by looking forward to dance at his wedding — that is, 
if he will send me an invitation.” 

“ Like as not you will be getting past your dancing days by 
the time that comes off, Nellie. I hope that, years before 
then, I shall have danced at your wedding — that is to say,” 
he said, imitating her, “if you will send me an invitation.” 

“What are you going to do next, Cyril?” Captain Dave 
asked, when the laugh had subsided. 

“I don’t know, I am sure,” Cyril replied. “I have not 
really woke up to it all yet. It will be some time before I 
realise that I am not a penniless young baronet, and that I can 
spend a pound without looking at it a dozen times. I shall 


A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE 


QOK 
Owl) 

have to get accustomed to the thought before I can make any 
plans. I suppose that one of the first things to do will be to 
go down to Oxford to see Prince Rupert — who, I suppose, is 
with the Court, though this I can doubtless learn at the offices 
of the Admiralty — and to tell him that I am ready to rejoin 
his ship as soon as he puts to sea again. Then I shall find 
out where Sydney Oliphant is, and how his family have fared 
in the Plague. I would fain find out what has become of the 
Partons, to whom, and especially to Lady Parton, I owe much. 
I suppose, too, I shall have to go down to Norfolk, but that 
I shall put off as long as I can, for it will be strange and very 
unpleasant at first to go down as master to a place I have 
never seen. I shall have to get you to come down with me, 
Captain Dave, to keep me in countenance.” 

“Not I, my lad. You will want a better introducer. I 
expect that the lawyer who was here will give you a letter to 
his son-in-law, who will, of course, place himself at your ser¬ 
vice, establishing you in your house and taking you round to 
your tenants.” 

“Oh, yes,” Nellie said, clapping her hands. “And there 
will be fine doings, and bonfires, and arches, and all sorts of 
festivities. I do begin to feel how much I have missed the 
want of that good fairy.” 

“It will be all very disagreeable,” Cyril said seriously; 
whereat the others laughed. 

Cyril then went downstairs with Captain Dave, and told 
John Wilkes of the good fortune that had befallen him, at 
which he was as much delighted as the others had been. 

Ten days later Cyril rode to Oxford, and found that Prince 
Rupert was at present there. The Prince received him with 
much warmth. 

“I have wondered many times what had become of you, 
Sir Cyril,” he said. “From the hour when I saw you leave 
us in the Fan Fan I have lost sight of you altogether. I 
have not been in London since, for the Plague had set in 
badly before the ships were laid up, and as I had naught 


326 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


particular to do there I kept away from it. Albemarle has 
stayed through it, and he and Mr. Pepys were able to do all 
there was to do, but I have thought of you often and wondered 
how you fared, and hoped to see you here, seeing that there 
was, as it seemed to me, nothing to keep you in London after 
your wounds had healed. I have spoken often to the King 
of the brave deed by which you saved us all, and he declared 
that, had it not been that you were already a baronet, he would 
knight you as soon as you appeared, as many of the captains 
and others have already received that honour; and he agreed 
with me that none deserved it better than yourself. Now, 
what has become of you all this time?” 

Cyril related how he had stayed in London, had had the 
Plague, and had recovered from it. 

“ I must see about getting you a commission at once in the 
Navy,” the Prince said, “though I fear you will have to wait 
until we fit out again. There will be no difficulty then, for 
of course there were many officers killed in the action.” 

Cyril expressed his thanks, adding,— 

“There is no further occasion for me to take a commission, 
Prince, for, strangely enough, the owner of my father’s prop¬ 
erty has just made it over to me. He is a good man, and, 
considering that he has already reaped large benefits by his 
purchase, and has been repaid his money with good interest, 
his conscience will no longer suffer him to retain it.” 

“Then he is a Prince of Roundheads,” the Prince said, 
“and I most heartily congratulate you; and I believe that the 
King will be as pleased as I am. He said but the other day, 
when I was speaking to him of you, that it grieved him sorely 
that he was powerless to do anything for so many that had 
suffered in his cause, and that, after the bravery you had 
shown, he was determined to do something, and would insist 
with his ministers that some office should be found for you, 
— though it is not an easy matter, when each of them has 
special friends of his own among whom to divide any good 
things that fall vacant. He holds a Court this evening, and 
I will take you with me.” 


A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE 


327 


The King was most gracious when the Prince again pre¬ 
sented Cyril to him and told him of the good fortune that had 
befallen him. 

“ By my faith, Sir Cyril, you were born under a lucky star. 
First of all you saved my Lord of Wisbech’s daughters; then, 
as Prince Rupert tells me, you saved him and all on board 
his ship from being burned; and now a miracle has well-nigh 
happened in your favour. I see, too, that you have the use 
of your arm, which the Prince doubted would ever altogether 
recover.” 

“More still, Your Majesty,” the Prince said. “He had the 
Plague in August and recovered from it.” 

“I shall have to keep you about me, Sir Cyril,” the King 
said, “as a sort of amulet to guard me against ill luck.” 

“I am going to take him to sea first,” Prince Rupert broke 
in, seeing that Cyril was about to disclaim the idea of coming 
to Court. “ I may want him to save my ship again, and I 
suppose he will be going down to visit his estate till I want 
him. You have never seen it, have you, Sir Cyril?” 

“No, sir; at least not to have any remembrance of it. I 
naturally long to see Upmead, of which I have heard much 
from my father. I should have gone down at once, but I 
thought it my duty to come hither and report myself to you 
as being ready to sail again as soon as you put to sea.” 

“Duty first and pleasure afterwards,” the King said. “I 
am afraid that is a little beyond me — eh, Rupert?” 

“Very much so, I should say, Cousin Charles,” the Prince 
replied, with a smile. “However, I have no doubt Sir Cyril 
will not grudge us a few days before he leaves. There are 
several of the gentlemen who were his comrades on the Henri¬ 
etta here, and they will be glad to renew their acquaintance 
with him, knowing, as they all do, that they owe their lives 
to him.” 

As Cyril was walking down the High Street, he saw a stu¬ 
dent coming along whose face seemed familiar to him. He 
looked hard at him. 


328 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“Surely you must be Harry Parton? ” he said. 

“That is my name, sir; though I cannot recall where I have 
met you. Yet there seems something familiar in your face, 
and still more in your voice.” 

“I am Cyril Shenstone.” 

“Why, what has become of you, Cyril?” Harry said, shak¬ 
ing him warmly by the hand. “ I searched for you a year ago 
when I was in London, but could obtain no tidings whatever 
of you, save that you had lost your father. We are alike there, 
for my father died a few months after yours did.” 

“I am sorry indeed, Harry. I had not heard of it before. 
I was not, indeed, in the way of doing so, as I was working 
in the City and knew nothing of what was passing elsewhere.” 

“This is my college, Cyril. Come up to my room; there 
we can talk comfortably, and we have much to tell each 
other. How is it that you have never been near us?” he 
went on, when they were seated in front of a blazing fire in 
his room. “ I know that there was some quarrel between our 
fathers, but when we heard of Sir Aubrey’s death, both my 
father and mother thought that you would come to see us or 
would have written — for indeed it was not until after my 
father’s death that we paid a visit to London. It was then 
my mother asked me to search for you; and after great diffi¬ 
culty I found the quarter in which you had lived, and then 
from the parish register learned where your father had died. 
Going there, I learned that you had left the lodging directly 
after his death, but more than that the people could not 
tell me.” 

“I should have come to see your mother and Sir John, 
Harry. I know how deeply I am indebted to them, and as 
long as I live shall never cease to be grateful for Lady Parton’s 
kindness to me. But I had received so much kindness that I 
shrank from seeming to wish to presume upon it further. I 
had, of course, to work for my living, and I wanted, before 
I recalled myself to them, to be able to say that I had not 
come as a beggar for further favours, but that I was making 




A STROKE OF GOOD FORTUNE 


329 


my way independently. Sooner or later I should have come, 
for your father once promised me that if I followed out what 
you remember was my plan, of entering foreign service, he 
would give me letters of introduction that would be useful to 
me. Had I that favour still to ask I could do it without 
shame. But more than that I would not have asked, even 
had I wanted bread, which, thank God! was never the case.” 

“I can understand your feeling, Cyril, but my mother 
assuredly would always have been pleased to see you. You 
know you were a favourite of hers.” 

“ Had you been near town, Harry, I should certainly have 
come to see her and you as soon as I had fairly established 
myself, but I heard from my father that you had all gone away 
into the country soon after the unfortunate quarrel he had 
with Sir John, and therefore delayed taking any step for the 
time, and indeed did not know in what part of the country 
your father’s estates lay. I know that he recovered them as 
soon as he returned.” 

“They had never been forfeited,” Harry said. “My father 
retired from the struggle after Naseby, and as he had influen¬ 
tial friends among the Puritans, there was no forfeiture of his 
estates, and we were therefore able, as you know, to live in 
comfort at Dunkirk, his steward sending over such monies as 
were required. And now about yourself. Your brains must 
have served you rarely somehow, for you are dressed in the 
latest fashion, and indeed I took you for a Court gallant when 
you accosted me.” 

“ I have been truly fortunate, Harry, and indeed everything 
has turned out as if specially designed for my good, and, in 
a most strange and unlooked-for manner, I have just come 
into my father’s estates again.” 

“ I am glad indeed to hear it, Cyril. Tell me how it has 
all come about.” 

Cyril told the story of his life since he had come to 
London. 

“You have, indeed, had strange adventures, Cyril, and, 


330 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


though you say little about it, you must have done something 
special to have gained Prince Rupert’s patronage and intro¬ 
duction to Court; but I shall worm all that out of you some 
day, or get it from other lips. What a contrast your life has 
been to mine! Here have you been earning your living 
bravely, fighting in the great battle against the Dutch, going 
through that terrible Plague, and winning your way back to 
fortune, while I have been living the life of a school-boy. Our 
estates lie in Shropshire, and as soon as we went down there 
my father placed me at a school at Shrewsbury. There I re¬ 
mained till his death, and then, as was his special wish, 
entered here. I have still a year of my course to complete. 

I only came up into residence last week. When the summer - 
comes I hope that you will come down to Ardleigh and stay 
with us; it will give my mother great pleasure to see you 
again, for I never see her but she speaks of you, and wonders 
what has become of you, and if you are still alive.” 

“Assuredly I will come, and that with the greatest pleasure,” 
Cyril said, “providing only that I am not then at sea, which 
is, I fear, likely, as I rejoin the ship as soon as Prince Rupert 
takes the sea against the Dutch. However, directly we return 
I will write to you.” 

“If you do so, let it be to Ardleigh, near Shrewsbury, 
Shropshire. Should I be here when your letter arrives, my 
mother will forward it to me.” 




CHAPTER XIX 

TAKING POSSESSION 

C YRIL stayed a week at Oxford. He greatly enjoyed the 
visit; and not only was he most warmly received by his 
former comrades on board the Henrietta , but Prince Rupert 
spoke so strongly in his favour to other gentlemen to whom 
he introduced him that he no longer felt a stranger at Court. 
Much of his spare time he spent with Harry Parton, and in 
his rooms saw something of college life, which seemed to him 
a very pleasant and merry one. He had ascertained, as soon 
as he arrived, that the Earl of Wisbech and his family were 
down at his estate, near the place from which he took his 
title, and had at once written to Sydney, from whom he re¬ 
ceived an answer on the last day of his stay at Oxford. It 
contained a warm invitation for him to come down to Wis¬ 
bech. 

“You say you will be going to Norwich to take possession of 
your estate. If you ride direct from Oxford, our place will 
be but little out of your way, therefore we shall take no excuse 
for your not coming to see us, and shall look for you within 
a week or so from the date of this. We were all delighted to 
get your missive, for although what you say about infection 
carried by letters is true enough, and, indeed there was no 
post out of London for months, we had begun to fear that the 
worst must have befallen you when no letter arrived from you 
in December. Still, we thought that you might not know 
where we were, and so hoped that you might be waiting'until 

331 








332 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


you could find that out. My father bids me say that he will 
take no refusal. Since my return he more than ever regards 
you as being the good genius of the family, and it is certainly 
passing strange that, after saving my sisters’ lives from fire 
you should, though in so different a way, have saved me 
from a similar death. So set off as soon as you get this — 
that is, if you can tear yourself away from the gaieties of 
Oxford.” 

Cyril had, indeed, been specially waiting for Sydney’s an¬ 
swer, having told him that he should remain at Oxford until 
he received it, and on the following morning he packed his 
valise and rode for Wisbech, where he arrived three days 
later. His welcome at the Earl’s was a most cordial one. 
He spent a week there, at the end of which time Sydney, at 
his earnest request, started for Norwich with him. The Earl 
had insisted on Cyril’s accepting a splendid horse, and behind 
him, on his other animal, rode a young fellow, the son of a 
small tenant on the Earl’s estate, whom he had engaged as a 
servant. He had written, three days before, to Mr. Popham, 
telling him that he would shortly arrive, and begging him to 
order the two old servants of his father, whom he had, at his 
request, engaged to take care of the house, to get two or three 
chambers in readiness for him, which could doubtless be 
easily done, as he had learnt from the deed that the furniture 
and all contents of the house had been included in the gift. 
After putting up at the inn, he went to the lawyer’s. Mr. 
Popham, he found, had had a room prepared in readiness for 
him at his house, but Cyril, while thanking him for so doing, 
said that, as Lord Oliphant was with him, he would stay at the 
inn for the night. 

The next morning they rode over with Mr. Popham to Up- 
mead, which was six miles distant from the town. 

“That is the house,” the lawyer said, as a fine old mansion 
came in sight. “There are larger residences in the county, 
but few more handsome. Indeed, it is almost too large for 
the estate, but, as perhaps you know, that was at one time a 



“WELCOME BACK TO YOUR OWN AGAIN, SIR CYRIL!” 


















TAKING POSSESSION 


333 


good deal larger than it is at present, for it was diminished 
by one of your ancestors in the days of Elizabeth.” 

At the gate where they turned into the Park an arch of ever¬ 
greens had been erected. 

“You don’t mean to say you let them know that I was com¬ 
ing home?” Cyril said, in a tone of such alarm that Lord 
Oliphant laughed and Mr. Popham said apologetically,— 

“ I certainly wrote to the tenants, sir, when I received your 
letter, and sent off a message saying that you would be here 
this morning. Most of them or their fathers were here in the 
old time, for Mr. Harvey made no changes, and I am sure 
they would have been very disappointed if they had not had 
notice that Sir Aubrey’s son was coming home.” 

“ Of course it was quite right for you to do so, Mr. Pop- 
ham, but you see I am quite unaccustomed to such things, 
and would personally have been much more pleased to have 
come home quietly. Still, as you say, it is only right that 
the tenants should have been informed, and at any rate it will 
be a satisfaction to get it all over at once.” 

There were indeed quite a large number of men and women 
assembled in front of the house -— all the tenants, with their 
wives and families, having gathered to greet their young 
landlord — and loud bursts of cheering arose as he rode up, 
Sydney and Mr. Popham reining back their horses a little to 
allow him to precede them. Cyril took off his hat, and bowed 
repeatedly in reply to the acclamations that greeted him. The 
tenants crowded round, many of the older men pressing for¬ 
ward to shake him by the hand. 

“ Welcome back to your own again, Sir Cyril! ” 

“I fought under your father, sir, and a good landlord he 
was to us all.” 

Such were the exclamations that rose round him until he 
reached the door of the mansion, and, dismounting, took his 
place at the top of the steps. Then he took off his hat again, 
and when there was silence he said,— 

“I thank you heartily, one and all, good friends, for the 


334 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


welcome that you have given me. Glad indeed I am to come 
down to my father’s home, and to be so greeted by those who 
knew him, and especially by those who followed him in the 
field in the evil days which have, we may hope, passed away 
for ever. You all know, perhaps, that I owe my return here 
as master to the noble generosity of Mr. Harvey, your late 
landlord, who restored me the estates, not being bound in 
any way to do so, but solely because he considered that he 
had already been repaid the money he gave for them. This 
may be true, but, nevertheless, there is not one man in a 
hundred thousand who would so despoil himself of the bene¬ 
fits of a bargain lawfully made, and I beg you therefore to 
give three cheers, as hearty as those with which you greeted 
me, for Mr. Harvey.” 

Three cheers, as long and loud as those that had before 
risen, responded to the appeal. 

“Such a man,” Cyril went on, when they subsided, “must 
have been a just and good landlord to you all, and I shall do 
my best to give you no cause for regret at the change that has 
come about.” 

He paused for a moment to speak to Mr. Popham, who 
stood beside him, and then went on,— 

“ I did not know whether I could ask you to drink to my 
health, but I learn from Mr. Popham that the cellars have 
been left well filled; therefore, my first orders on coming to 
the house of my fathers will be that a cask of wine shall be 
speedily broached, and that you shall be enabled to drink my 
health. While that is being done, Mr. Popham will introduce 
you to me one by one.” 

Another loud cheer arose, and then the tenants came for¬ 
ward with their wives and families. 

Cyril shook hands with them all, and said a few words to each. 
The elder men had all ridden by his father in battle, and most 
of the younger ones said, as he shook hands with them,— 

“My father fell, under Sir Aubrey, at Naseby,” or “at 
Worcester,” or in other battles. 


TAKING POSSESSION 


335 


By the time all had been introduced, a great cask of wine 
had been broached, and after the tenants had drunk to his 
health, and he had, in turn, pledged them, Cyril entered the 
house with Sydney and Mr. Popham, and proceeded to exam¬ 
ine it under the guidance of the old man who had been his 
father’s butler, and whose wife had also been a servant in Sir 
Aubrey’s time. 

“Everything is just as it was then, Sir Cyril. A few fresh 
articles of furniture have been added, but Mr. Harvey would 
have no general change made. The family pictures hang just 
where they did, and your father himself would scarce notice 
the changes.” 

“It is indeed a fine old mansion, Cyril,”' Lord Oliphant 
said, when they had made a tour of the house; “and now that 
I see it and its furniture I am even more inclined than before 
to admire the man who could voluntarily resign them. I shall 
have to modify my ideas of the Puritans. They have shown 
themselves ready to leave the country and cross the ocean to 
America, and begin life anew for conscience’ sake — that is 
to say, to escape persecution — and they fought very dough¬ 
tily, and we must own, very successfully, for the same reason, 
but this is the first time I have ever heard of one of them 
relinquishing a fine estate for conscience’ sake.” 

“Mr. Harvey is indeed a most worthy gentleman,” Mr. 
Popham said, “and has the esteem and respect of all, even 
of those who are of wholly different politics. Still, it may be 
that although he would in any case, I believe, have left this 
property to Sir Cyril, he might not have handed it over to 
him in his lifetime, had not he received so great a service at 
his hands.” 

“Why, what is this, Cyril?” Sydney said, turning upon 
him. “You have told us nothing whatever of any services 
rendered. I never saw such a fellow as you are for helping 
other people.” 

“There was nothing worth speaking of,” Cyril said, much 
vexed. 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


336 

Mr. Popham smiled. 

“Most people would think it was a very great service, Lord 
Oliphant. However, I may not tell you what it was, although 
I have heard all the details from my father-in-law, Mr. Golds¬ 
worthy. They were told in confidence, and in order to en¬ 
lighten me as to the relations between Mr. Harvey and Sir 
Cyril, and as they relate to painful family matters I am bound 
to preserve an absolute silence.” 

“I will be content to wait, Cyril, till I get you to myself. 
It is a peculiarity of Sir Cyril Shenstone, Mr. Popham, that 
he goes through life doing all sorts of services for all sorts of 
people. You may not know that he saved the lives of my 
three sisters in a fire at our mansion in the Savoy; he also 
performed the trifling service of saving Prince Rupert’s ship 
and the lives of all on board, among whom was myself, from 
a Dutch fire-ship, in the battle of Lowestoft. These are 
insignificant affairs, that he would not think it worth while to 
allude to, even if you knew him for twenty years.” 

“You do not know Lord Oliphant, Mr. Popham,” Cyril 
laughed, “or you would be aware that his custom is to make 
mountains out of molehills. But let us sit down to dinner. 
I suppose it is your forethought, Mr. Popham, that I have to 
thank for having warned them to make this provision? I 
had thought that we should be lucky if the resources of the 
establishment sufficed to furnish us with a meal of bread and 
cheese.” 

“ I sent on a few things with my messenger yesterday even¬ 
ing, Sir Cyril, but for the hare and those wild ducks methinks 
you have to thank your tenants, who doubtless guessed that an 
addition to the larder would be welcome. I have no doubt 
that, good landlord as Mr. Harvey was, they are really de¬ 
lighted to have you among them again. As you know, these 
eastern counties were the stronghold of Puritanism, and that 
feeling is still held by the majority. It is only among the 
tenants of many gentlemen who, like your father, were de¬ 
voted Royalists, that there is any very strong feeling the other 


TAKING POSSESSION 


337 


way. As you heard from their lips, most of your older ten¬ 
ants fought under Sir Aubrey, while the fathers of the younger 
ones fell under his banner. Consequently, it was galling to 
them that one of altogether opposite politics should be their 
landlord, and although in every other respect they had reason 
to like him, he was, as it were, a symbol of their defeat, and 
I suppose they viewed him a good deal as the Saxons of old 
times regarded their Norman lords.” 

“I can quite understand that, Mr. Popham.” 

“Another feeling has worked in your favour, Sir Cyril,” the 
lawyer went on. “ It may perhaps be a relic of feudalism, 
but there can be no doubt that there exists, in the minds of 
English country folks, a feeling of respect and of something 
like affection for their landlords when men of old family, and 
that feeling is never transferred to new men who may take 
their place. Mr. Harvey was, in their eyes, a new man — a 
wealthy one, no doubt, but owing his wealth to his own exer¬ 
tions — and he would never have excited among them the 
same feeling as they gave to the family who had, for several 
hundred years, been owners of the soil.” 

Cyril remained for a fortnight at Upmead, calling on all the 
tenants, and interesting himself in them and their families. 
The day after his arrival he rode into Norwich, and paid a 
visit to Mr. Harvey. He had, in compliance to his wishes, 
written but a short letter of acknowledgment of the restitu¬ 
tion of the estate, but he now expressed the deep feeling of 
gratitude that he entertained. 

“I have only done what is right,” Mr. Harvey said quietly, 
“and would rather not be thanked for it; but your feelings 
are natural, and I have therefore not checked your words. It 
was assuredly God’s doing in so strangely bringing us together, 
and making you an instrument in saving our lives, and so 
awakening an uneasy conscience into activity. I have had 
but small pleasure from Upmead. I have a house here which 
is more than sufficient for all my wants, and I have, I hope, 
the respect of my townsfellows, and the affection of my work- 

Y 


338 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


men. At Upmead I was always uncomfortable. Such of the 
county gentlemen who retained their estates looked askance 
at me. The tenants, I knew, though they doffed their hats as 
I passed them, regarded me as a usurper. I had no taste for 
the sports and pleasures of country life, being born and bred 
a townsman. The ill-doing of my son cast a gloom over my 
life of late. I have lived chiefly here with the society of 
friends of my own religious and political feeling. Therefore, 
I have made no sacrifice in resigning my tenancy of Upmead, 
and I pray you say no further word of your gratitude. I have 
heard, from one who was there yesterday, how generously you 
spoke of me to your tenants, and I thank you for so doing, 
for it is pleasant for me to stand well in the thoughts of those 
whose welfare I have had at heart.” 

“I trust that Mrs. Harvey is in good health?” Cyril said. 

“She is far from well, Cyril. The events of that night in 
London have told heavily upon her, as is not wonderful, for 
she has suffered much sorrow for years, and this last blow has 
broken her sorely. She mourns, as David mourned over the 
death of Absalom, over the wickedness of her son, but she is 
quite as one with me in the measures that I have taken con¬ 
cerning him, save that, at her earnest prayer, I have made a 
provision for him which will keep him from absolute want, 
and will leave him no excuse to urge that he was driven by 
poverty into crime. Mr. Goldsworthy has not yet discovered 
means of communicating with him, but when he does so he 
will notify him that he has my instructions to pay to him fif¬ 
teen pounds on the first of every month, and that the offer of 
assistance to pay his passage to America is still open to him, 
and that on arriving there he will receive for three years the 
same allowance as here. Then if a favourable report of his 
conduct is forthcoming from the magistrates and deacons of 
the town where he takes up his residence, a correspondent of 
Mr. Goldsworthy’s will be authorised to expend four thousand 
pounds on the purchase of an estate for him, and to hand to 
him another thousand for the due working and maintenance 


TAKING POSSESSION 


339 


of the same. For these purposes I have already made provi¬ 
sions in my will, with proviso that if, at the end of five years 
after my death, no news of him shall be obtained, the money 
set aside for these purposes shall revert to the main provisions 
of the will. It may be that he died of the Plague. It may 
be that he has fallen, or will fall, a victim to his own evil 
courses and evil passions. But I am convinced that, should 
he be alive, Mr. Goldsworthy will be able to obtain tidings of 
him long before the five years have expired. And now,” he 
said, abruptly changing the subject, “what are you thinking 
of doing, Sir Cyril?” 

“ In the first place, sir, I am going to sea again with the 
Fleet very shortly. I entered as a Volunteer for the war, and 
could not well, even if I wished it, draw back.” 

“They are a stiff-necked people,” Mr. Harvey said. “That 
the Sovereigns of Europe should have viewed with displeasure 
the overthrow of the monarchy here was natural enough; but 
in Holland, if anywhere, we might have looked for sympathy, 
seeing that as they had battled for freedom of conscience, so 
had we done here; and yet they were our worst enemies, and 
again and again had Blake to sail forth to chastise them. They 
say that Monk is to command this time? ” 

“I believe so, sir.” 

“Monk is the bruised reed that pierced our hand, but he is 
a good fighter. And after the war is over, Sir Cyril, you will 
not, I trust, waste your life in the Court of the profligate 
King?” 

“Certainly not,” Cyril said earnestly. “As soon as the war 
is over I shall return to Upmead and take up my residence 
there. I have lived too hard a life to care for the gaieties of 
Court, still less of a Court like that of King Charles. I shall 
travel for a while in Europe if there is a genuine peace. I 
have lost the opportunity of completing my education, and 
am too old now to go to either of the Universities. Not too 
old perhaps; but I have seen too much of the hard side of 
life to care to pass three years among those who, no older than 


340 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


myself, are still as boys in their feelings. The next best thing, 
therefore, as it seems to me, would be to travel, and perhaps 
to spend a year or two in one of the great Universities abroad.” 

“The matter is worth thinking over,” Mr. Harvey said. 
“You are assuredly young yet to settle down alone at Upmead, 
and will reap much advantage from speaking French which is 
everywhere current, and may greatly aid you in making your 
travels useful to you. I have no fear of your falling into 
Popish error, Sir Cyril; but if my wishes have any weight with 
you I would pray you to choose the schools of Leyden or 
Haarlem, should you enter a foreign University, for they turn 
out learned men and good divines.” 

“ Certainly your wishes have weight with me, Mr. Harvey, 
and should events so turn out that I can enter one of the for¬ 
eign Universities, it shall be one of those you name — that is, 
should we, after this war is ended, come into peaceful rela¬ 
tions with the Dutch.” 

Before leaving the Earl’s, Cyril had promised faithfully that 
he would return thither with Sydney, and accordingly, at the 
end of the fortnight, he rode back with him there, and, three 
weeks later, journeyed up to London with the Earl and his 
family. 

It was the middle of March when they reached London. 
The Court had come up a day or two before, and the Fleet 
was, as Cyril learnt, being fitted out in great haste. The 
French had now, after hesitating all through the winter, de¬ 
clared war against us, and it was certain that we should have 
their fleet as well as that of the Dutch to cope with. Calling 
upon Prince Rupert on the day he arrived, Cyril learnt that 
the Fleet would assuredly put to sea in a month’s time. 

“Would you rather join at once, or wait until I go on 
board?” the Prince asked. 

“I would rather join at once, sir. I have no business to 
do in London, and it would be of no use for me to take an 
apartment when I am to leave so soon; therefore, if I can be 
of any use, I would gladly join at once.” 


♦ 


TAKING POSSESSION 


341 


“You would be of no use on board,” the Prince said, “but 
assuredly you could be of use in carrying messages, and let¬ 
ting me know frequently, from your own report, how matters 
are going on. I heard yesterday that the Fan Fan is now 
fitted out. You shall take the command of her. I will give 
you a letter to the boatswain, who is at present in charge, say¬ 
ing that I have placed her wholly under your orders. You 
will, of course, live on board. You will be chiefly at Chatham 
and Sheerness. If you call early to-morrow I will have a letter 
prepared for you, addressed to all captains holding commands 
in the White Squadron, bidding them to acquaint you, when¬ 
soever you go on board, with all particulars of how matters 
have been pushed forward, and to give you a list of all things 
lacking. Then, twice a week you will sail up to town, and 
report to me, or, should there be any special news at other 
times, send it to me by a mounted messenger. ^r. Pepys, 
the secretary, is a diligent and hard-working man, but he 
cannot see to everything, and Albemarle so pushes him that I 
think the White Squadron does not get a fair share of atten¬ 
tion; but if I can go to him with your reports in hand, I may 
succeed in getting what is necessary done.” 

Bidding farewell to the Earl and his family, and thanking 
him for his kindness, Cyril stopped that night at Captain 
Dave’s, and told him of all that had happened since they 
met. The next morning he went early to Prince Rupert’s, 
received the two letters, and rode down to Chatham. Then, 
sending the horses back by his servant, who was to take them 
to the Earl’s stable, where they would be cared for until his 
return, Cyril went on board the Fan Fan. For the next month 
he was occupied early and late with his duties. The cabin 
was small, but very comfortable. The crew was a strong one, 
for the yacht rowed twelve oars, with which she could make 
good progress even without her sails. He was waited on by 
his servant, who returned as soon as he had left the horses in 
the Earl’s stables; his cooking was done for him in the yacht’s 
galley. On occasions, as the tide suited, he either sailed up 


342 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


to London in the afternoon, gave his report to the Prince late 
in the evening, and was back at Sheerness by daybreak, or he 
sailed up at night, saw the Prince as soon as he rose, and re¬ 
turned at once. 

The Prince highly commended his diligence, and told him 
that his reports were of great use to him, as, with them in his 
hand, he could not be put off at the Admiralty with vague 
assurances. Every day one or more ships went out to join the 
Fleet that was gathering in the Downs, and on April 20th 
Cyril sailed in the Fan Fan , in company with the last vessel 
of the White Squadron, and there again took up his quarters 
on board the Henrietta , the Fan Fan being anchored hard by 
in charge of the boatswain. 

On the 23rd, the Prince, with the Duke of Albemarle, and 
a great company of noblemen and gentlemen, arrived at Deal, 
and came on board the Fleet, which, on May 1st, weighed 
anchor. 

Lord Oliphant was among the volunteers who came down 
with the Prince, and, as many of the other gentlemen had 
also been on board during the first voyage, Cyril felt that he 
was among friends, and had none of the feeling of strange¬ 
ness and isolation he had before experienced. 

The party was indeed a merry one. For upwards of a year 
the fear of the Plague had weighed on all England. At the 
time it increased so terribly in London, that all thought it 
would, like the Black Death, spread over England, and that, 
once again, half the population of the country might be swept 
away. Great as the mortality had been, it had been confined 
almost entirely to London and some of the great towns, and 
now that it had died away even in these, there was great 
relief in men’s minds, and all felt that they had personally 
escaped from a terrible and imminent danger. That they 
were about to face peril even greater than that from which 
they had escaped did not weigh on the spirits of the gentle¬ 
men on board Prince Rupert’s ship. To be killed fighting for 
their country was an honourable death that none feared, while 


TAKING POSSESSION 


343 


there had been, in the minds of even the bravest, a horror of 
death by the Plague, with all its ghastly accompaniments. 
Sailing out to sea to the Downs, then, they felt that the past 
year’s events lay behind them as an evil dream, and laughed 
and jested and sang with light-hearted mirth. 

As yet, the Dutch had not put out from port, and for three 
weeks the Fleet cruised off their coast. Then, finding that 
the enemy could not be tempted to come out, they sailed 
back to the Downs. The day after they arrived there, a mes¬ 
senger came down from London with orders to Prince Rupert 
to sail at once with the White Squadron to engage the French 
Fleet, which was reported to be on the point of putting to 
sea. The Prince had very little belief that the French really 
intended to fight. Hitherto, although they had been liberal 
in their promises to the Dutch, they had done nothing what¬ 
ever to aid them, and the general opinion was that France 
rejoiced at seeing her rivals damage each other, but had no 
idea of risking her ships or men in the struggle. 

“I believe, gentlemen,” Prince Rupert said to his officers, 
“that this is but a ruse on the part of Louis to aid his Dutch 
allies by getting part of our fleet out of the way. Still, I have 
nothing to do but to obey orders, though I fear it is but a 
fool’s errand on which we are sent.” 

The wind was from the north-east, and was blowing a fresh 
gale. The Prince prepared to put to sea. While the men 
were heaving at the anchors a message came to Cyril that 
Prince Rupert wished to speak to him in his cabin. 

“Sir Cyril, I am going to restore you to your command. 
The wind is so strong and the sea will be so heavy that I would 
not risk my yacht and the lives of the men by sending her 
down the Channel. I do not think there is any chance of 
our meeting the French, and believe that it is here that the 
battle will be fought, for with this wind the Dutch can be 
here in a few hours, and I doubt not that as soon as they learn 
that one of our squadrons has sailed away they will be out. 
The Fan Fan will sail with us, but will run into Dover as we 


344 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


pass. Here is a letter that I have written ordering you to do 
so, and authorising you to put out and join the Admiral’s 
Fleet, should the Dutch attack before my return. If you like 
to have young Lord Oliphant with you he can go, but he must 
go as a Volunteer under you. You are the captain of the Fan 
Fan, and have been so for the last two months; therefore, 
although your friend is older than you are, he must, if he 
choose to go, be content to serve under you. Stay, I will put 
it to him myself.” 

He touched the bell, and ordered Sydney to be sent for. 

“Lord Oliphant,” he said, “I know that you and Sir Cyril 
are great friends. I do not consider that the Fan Fan, of 
which he has for some time been commander, is fit to keep 
the sea in a gale like this, and I have therefore ordered him 
to take her into Dover. If the Dutch come out to fight the 
Admiral, as I think they will, he will join the Fleet, and 
although the Fan Fan can take but small share in the fighting, 
she may be useful in carrying messages from the Duke while 
the battle is going on. It seems to me that, as the Fan Fati 
is more likely to see fighting than my ships, you, as a Volun¬ 
teer, might prefer to transfer yourself to her until she again 
joins us. Sir Cyril is younger than you are, but if you go, 
you must necessarily be under his command seeing that he is 
captain of the yacht. It is for you to choose whether you 
wil.1 remain here or go with him.” 

“ I should like to go with him, sir. He has had a good 
deal of experience of the sea, while I have never set foot on 
board ship till last year. And after what he did at Lowes¬ 
toft I should say that any gentleman would be glad to serve 
under him.” 

“That is the right feeling,” Prince Rupert said warmly. 
“Then get your things transferred to the yacht. If you join 
Albemarle’s Fleet, Sir Cyril, you will of course report your¬ 
self to him, and say that I directed you to place yourself under 
his orders.” 

Five minutes later Cyril and his friend were on board the 


TAKING POSSESSION 


345 


Fan Fan. Scarcely had they reached her, when a gun was 
fired from Prince Rupert’s ship as a signal, and the ships of 
the White Squadron shook out their sails, and, with the wind 
free, raced down towards the South Foreland. 

“We are to put into Dover,” Cyril said to the boatswain, a 
weatherbeaten old sailor. 

“The Lord be praised for that, sir! She is a tight little 
craft, but there will be a heavy sea on as soon we are be¬ 
yond shelter of the sands, and with these two guns on board 
of her she will make bad weather. Besides, in a wind like 
this, it ain’t pleasant being in a little craft in the middle of a 
lot of big ones, for if we were not swamped by the sea, we 
might very well be run down. We had better keep her close 
to the Point, yer honour, and then run along, under shelter 
of the cliffs, into Dover. The water will be pretty smooth in 
there, though we had best carry as little sail as we can, for the 
gusts will come down from above fit to take the mast out 
of her.” 

“I am awfully glad you came with me, Sydney,” Cyril said, 
as he took his place with his friend near the helmsman, “ but 
I wish the Prince had put you in command. Of course, it is 
only a nominal thing, for the boatswain is really the captain 
in everything that concerns making sail and giving orders to 
the crew. Still, it would have been much nicer the other 
way.” 

“I don’t see that it would, Cyril,” Sydney laughed, “for 
you know as much more about handling a boat like this than 
I do, as the boatswain does than yourself. You have been on 
board her night and day for more than a month, and even if 
you knew nothing about her at all, Prince Rupert would have 
been right to choose you as a recognition of your great ser¬ 
vices last time. Don’t think anything about it. We are 
friends, and it does not matter a fig which is the nominal 
commander. I was delighted to come, not only to be with 
you, but because it will be a very great deal pleasanter being 
our own masters on board this pretty little yacht than being 


346 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


officers on board the Henrietta where we would have been 
only in the way except when we went into action.” 

As soon as they rounded the Point most of the sail was 
taken off the Fan Fan , but even under the small canvas she 
carried she lay over until her lee rail was almost under water 
when the heavy squalls swooped down on her from the cliffs. 
The rest of the squadron was keeping some distance out, pre¬ 
senting a fine sight as the ships lay over, sending the spray 
flying high into the air from their bluff bows, and plunging 
deeply into the waves. 

“Yes, it is very distinctly better being where we are,” Lord 
Oliphant said, as he gazed at them. “ I was beginning to feel 
qualmish before we got under shelter of the Point, and by this 
time, if I had been on board the Henrietta , I should have 
been prostrate, and should have had I know not how long 
misery before me.” 

A quarter of an hour later they were snugly moored in 
Dover Harbour. For twenty-four hours the gale continued; 
the wind then fell somewhat, but continued to blow strongly 
from the same quarter. Two days later it veered round to the 
south-west, and shortly afterwards the English Fleet could be 
seen coming out past the Point. As soon as they did so they 
headed eastward. 

“They are going out to meet the Dutch,” Sydney said, as 
they watched the ships from the cliffs. “The news must have 
arrived that their fleet has put out to sea.” 

“Then we may as well be off after them, Sydney; they will 
sail faster than we shall in this wind, for it is blowing too 
strongly for us to carry much sail.” 

They hurried on board. A quarter of an hour later the Fan 
Fan put out from the harbour. The change of wind had 
caused an ugly cross sea and the yacht made bad weather of 
it, the waves constantly washing over her decks, but before 
they were off Calais she had overtaken some of the slower 
sailers of the Fleet. The sea was less violent as they held 
on, for they were now, to some extent, sheltered by the coast. 


TAKING POSSESSION 


347 


In a short time Cyril ran down into the cabin where Sydney 
was lying ill. 

“The Admiral has given the signal to anchor, and the lead¬ 
ing ships are already bringing up. We will choose a berth as 
near the shore as we can; with our light draught we can lie 
well inside of the others, and shall be in comparatively smooth 
water.” 

Before dusk the Fleet was at anchor, with the exception of 
two or three of the fastest frigates, which were sent on to 
endeavour to obtain some news of the enemy. 




CHAPTER XX 


THE FIGHT OFF DUNKIRK 


S soon as the Fan Fan had been brought to an anchor the 



+ * boat was lowered, and Cyril was rowed on board the 
Admiral’s ship. 

Albemarle was on the poop, and Cyril made his report 
to him. 

“Very well, sir,” the Duke said, “I dare say I shall be able 
to make you of some use. Keep your craft close to us when 
we sail. I seem to know your face.” 

“ I am Sir Cyril Shenstone, my Lord Duke. I had the hon¬ 
our of meeting you first at the fire in the Savoy, and Prince 
Rupert afterwards was good enough to present me to you.” 

“Yes, yes, I remember. And it was you who saved the 
Henrietta from the fire-ship at Lowestoft. You have begun 
well indeed, young sir, and are like to have further oppor¬ 
tunities of showing your bravery.” 

Cyril bowed, and then, going down the side to his boat, 
returned to the Fan Fan. She was lying in almost smooth 
water, and Sydney had come up on deck again. 

“You heard no news of the Dutch, I suppose, Cyril?” 

“No; I asked a young officer as I left the ship, and he said 
that, so lar as he knew, nothing had been heard of them, but 
news had come in, before the Admiral sailed from the Downs, 
that everything was ready for sea, and that orders were ex¬ 
pected every hour for them to put out.” 

“ It is rather to be hoped that they won’t put out for another 


348 













THE FIGHT OFF DUNKIRK 


349 


two days,” Sydney said. “That will give the Prince time to 
rejoin with his squadron. The wind is favourable now for 
his ref>rn, and I should think, as soon as they hear in London 
that tFe* Dutch are on the point of putting out, and Albemarle 
has sa led. they will send him orders to join us at once. We 
have tnly about sixty sail, while they say that the Dutch have 
over ninety, which is too heavy odds against us to be 
pleasant.” 

“I should think the Duke will not fight till the Prince 
comes up.” 

“I don’t think he will wait for him if he finds the Dutch 
near. All say that he is over-confident, and apt to despise 
the Dutch too much. Anyhow, he is as brave as a lion, and, 
though he might not attack unless the Dutch begin it, I feel 
sure he will not run away from them.” 

The next morning early, the Bristol frigate was seen return¬ 
ing from the east. She had to beat her way back in the teeth 
of the wind, but, when still some miles away, a puff of white 
smoke was seen to dart out from her side, and presently the 
boom of a heavy gun was heard. Again and again she fired, 
and the signal was understood to be a notification that she 
had seen the Dutch. The signal for the captains of the men- 
of-war to come on board was at once run up to the mast-head 
of the flagship, followed by another for the Fleet to be prepared 
to weigh anchor. Captain Bacon, of the Bristol , went on 
board as soon as his ship came up. In a short time the boats 
were seen to put off, and as the captains reached their re¬ 
spective ships the signal to weigh anchor was hoisted. 

This was hailed with a burst of cheering throughout the 
Fleet, and all felt that it signified that they would soon meet 
the Dutch. The Fan Fan was under sail long before the 
men-of-war had got up their heavy anchors, and, sailing out, 
tacked backwards and forwards until the Fleet were under 
sail, when Cyril told the boatswain to place her within a few 
cables’ length of the flagship on her weather quarter. After 
two hours’ sail the Dutch Fleet were made out, anchored off 


350 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


Dunkirk. The Blue Squadron, under Sir William Berkley, 
led the way, the Red Squadron, under the Duke, following. 

“I will put a man in the chains with the lead,” the boat¬ 
swain said to Cyril. “There are very bad sands off Dunkirk, 
and though we might get over them in safety, the big ships 
would take ground, and if they did so we should be in a bad 
plight indeed.” 

“In that case, we had best slack out the sheet a little, and 
take up our post on the weather bow of the Admiral, so that 
we can signal to him if we find water failing.” 

The topsail was hoisted, and the Fan Fan , which was a 
very fast craft in comparatively smooth water, ran past the 
Admiral’s flagship. 

“Shall I order him back, your Grace?” the Captain asked 
angrily. 

Albemarle looked at the Fan Fan attentively. 

“They have got a man sounding,” he said. “It is a wise 
precaution. The young fellow in command knows what he 
is doing. We ought to have been taking the same care. 
See! he is taking down his topsail again. Set an officer to 
watch the yacht, and if they signal, go about at once.” 

The soundings continued for a short time at six fathoms, 
when suddenly the man at the lead called out sharply,— 

“ Three fathoms! ” 

“Cyril ran to the flagstaff, and as the next cry came — 
“Two fathoms!” — hauled down the flag and stood waving 
his cap, while the boatswain, who had gone to the tiller, at 
once pushed it over to starboard, and brought the yacht up 
into the wind. Cyril heard orders shouted on board the 
flagship, and saw her stern sweeping round. A moment later 
her sails were ahack, but the men, who already clustered 
round the guns, were not quick enough in hauling the yards 
across, and, to his dismay, he saw the main topmast bend, 
and then go over the side with a crash. All was confusion 
on board, and for a time it seemed as if the other topmast 
would also go. 


THE FIGHT OFF DUNKIRK 


351 


“Run her alongside within hailing distance,” Cyril said to 
the boatswain. “They will want to question us.” 

As they came alongside the flagship the Duke himself leant 
over the side. 

“What water had you when you came about, sir? ” 

“We went suddenly from six fathoms to three, your 
Grace,” Cyril shouted, “and a moment after we found but 
two.” 

“Very we 1 !, sir,” the Duke called back. “ In that case you 
have certainly saved our ship. I thought perhaps that you 
had been over-hasty, and had thus cost us our topmast, but I 
see it was not so, and thank you. Our pilot assured us there 
was plenty of water on the course we were taking.” 

The ships of the Red Squadron had all changed their course 
on seeing the flagship come about so suddenly, and considera¬ 
ble delay and confusion was caused before they again formed 
in order, and, in obedience to the Duke’s signal, followed in 
support of the Blue Squadron. This had already dashed 
into the midst of the Dutch Fleet, who were themselves in 
some confusion; for, so sudden had been the attack, that 
they had been forced to cut their cables, having no time to 
get up their anchors. 

The British ships poured in their broadsides as they ap¬ 
proached, while the Dutch opened a tremendous cannonade. 
Besides their great inferiority in numbers, the British were 
under a serious disadvantage. They had the weather gauge, 
and the wind was so strong that it heeled them over, so that 
they were unable to open their lower ports, and were there¬ 
fore deprived of the use of their heaviest guns. 

Four of the ships of the Red Squadron remained by the flag¬ 
ship, to protect her if attacked, and to keep off fire-ships, 
while her crew laboured to get up another topmast. More 
than three hours were occupied in this operation, but so busily 
did the rest of the Fleet keep the Dutch at work that they 
were unable to detach sufficient ships to attack her. 

As soon as the topmast was in place and the sails hoisted, 


352 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 



the flagship and her consorts hastened to join their hard- 
pressed comrades. 

The fight was indeed a desperate one. Sir William Berkley 
and his ship, the Swiftsure , a second-rate, was taken, as was 
the jEssex, a third-rate. 

The Henry , commanded by Sir John Harman, was sur¬ 
rounded by foes. Her sails and rigging were shot to pieces, 
so she was completely disabled, and the Dutch Admiral, Cor¬ 
nelius Evertz, summoned Sir John Harman to surrender. 

“It has not come to that yet,” Sir John shouted back, and 
continued to pour such heavy broadsides into the Dutch that 
several of their ships were greatly damaged, and Evertz him¬ 
self killed. 

The Dutch captains drew off their vessels, and launched 
three fire-ships at the Henry. The first one, coming up on 
her starboard quarter, grappled with her. The dense volumes 
of smoke rising from her prevented the sailors from discov¬ 
ering where the grapnels were fixed, and the flames were 
spreading to her when her boatswain gallantly leapt on board 
the fire-ship, and, by the light of its flames, discovered the 
grapnels and threw them overboard, and succeeded in regain¬ 
ing his ship. 

A moment later, the second fire-ship came up on the port 
side, and so great a body of flames swept across the Henry 
that her chaplain and fifty men sprang overboard. Sir John, 
however, drew his sword, and threatened to cut down the first 
man who refused to obey orders, and the rest of the crew, 
setting manfully to work, succeeded in extinguishing the 
flames, and in getting free of the fire-ship. The halliards of 
the main yard were, however, burnt through, and the spar 
fell, striking Sir John Harman to the deck and breaking 
his leg. 

The third fire-ship was received with the fire of four cannon 
loaded with chain shot. These brought her mast down, and 
she drifted by, clear of the Henry , which was brought safely 
into Harwich. 


THE FIGHT OFF DUNKIRK 


353 


The fight continued the whole day, and did not terminate 
until ten o’clock in the evening. The night was spent in 
repairing damages, and in the morning the English recom¬ 
menced the battle. It was again obstinately contested. Ad¬ 
miral Van Tromp threw himself into the midst of the British 
line, and suffered so heavily that he was only saved by the 
arrival of Admiral de Ruyter. He, in his turn, was in a most 
perilous position, and his ship disabled, when fresh reinforce¬ 
ments arrived. And so the battle raged, until, in the after¬ 
noon, as if by mutual consent, the Fleets drew off from each 
other, and the battle ceased. The fighting had been extraor¬ 
dinarily obstinate and determined on both sides, many ships 
had been sunk, several burnt, and some captured. The sea 
was dotted with wreckage, masts, and spars, fragments of boats 
and debris of all kinds. Both fleets presented a pitiable ap¬ 
pearance; the hulls, but forty-eight hours ago so trim and 
smooth, were splintered and jagged, port-holes were knocked 
into one, bulwarks carried away, and stern galleries gone. 
The sails were riddled with shot-holes, many of the ships had 
lost one or more masts, while the light spars had been, in 
most cases, carried away, and many of the yards had come 
down owing to the destruction of the running gear. 

In so tremendous a conflict the little Fan Fan could bear 
but a small part. Cyril and Lord Oliphant agreed, at the 
commencement of the first day’s fight, that it would be useless 
for them to attempt to fire their two little guns, but that their 
efforts should be entirely directed against the enemy’s fire¬ 
ships. During each day’s battle, then, they hovered round 
the flagship, getting out of the way whenever she was engaged, 
as she often was, on both broadsides, and although once or 
twice struck by stray shots, the Fan Fan received no serious 
damage. In this encounter of giants, the little yacht was 
entirely overlooked, and none of the great ships wasted a 
shot upon her. Two or three times each day, when the Ad¬ 
miral’s ship had beaten off her foes, a fire-ship directed its 
course against her. Then came the Fan Fan's turn for 


354 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


action. Under the pressure of her twelve oars she sped 
towards the fire-ship, and on reaching her a grapnel was 
thrown over the end of the bowsprit, and by the efforts of the 
rowers her course was changed, so that she swept harmlessly 
past the flagship. 

Twice when the vessels were coming down before the wind 
at a rate of speed that rendered it evident that the efforts of 
the men at the oars would be insufficient to turn her course, 
the Fan Fan was steered alongside, grapnels were thrown, 
and, headed by Lord Oliphant and Cyril, the crew sprang on 
board, cut down or drove overboard the few men who were in 
charge of her. Then, taking the helm and trimming the 
sails, they directed her against one of the Dutch men-of-war, 
threw the grapnels on board, lighted the train, leapt back into 
the Fan Fan , rowed away, and took up their place near the 
Admiral, the little craft being greeted with hearty cheers by 
the whole ship’s company. 

The afternoon was spent in repairing damages as far as 
practicable, but even the Duke saw it was impossible to con¬ 
tinue the fight. The Dutch had received a reinforcement 
while the fighting was going on that morning, and although 
the English had inflicted terrible damage upon the Dutch 
Fleet, their own loss in ships was greater than that which they 
had caused their adversaries. A considerable portion of their 
vessels were not in a condition to renew the battle, and the 
carpenters had hard work to save them from sinking outright. 
Albemarle himself embarked on the Fan Fan , and sailed from 
ship to ship, ascertaining the condition of each, and the losses 
its crew had suffered. As soon as night fell, the vessels most 
disabled were ordered to sail for England as they best could. 
The crew of three which were totally dismasted and could 
hardly be kept afloat, were taken out and divided between the 
twenty-eight vessels which alone remained in a condition to 
renew the fight. 

These three battered hulks were, early the next morning, 
set on fire, and the rest of the Fleet, in good order and 


THE FIGHT OFF DUNKIRK 


355 


prepared to give battle, followed their companions that had 
sailed on the previous evening. The Dutch followed, but 
at a distance, thinking to repair their damages still far¬ 
ther before they again engaged. In the afternoon the sails 
of a squadron were seen ahead, and a loud cheer ran 
from ship to ship, for all knew that this was Prince Rupert 
coming up with the White Squadron. A serious loss, how¬ 
ever, occurred a few minutes afterwards. The Royal Prince , 
the largest and most powerful vessel in the Fleet, which was 
somewhat in rear of the line, struck on the sands. The tide 
being with them and the wind light, the rest of the Fleet tried 
in vain to return to her assistance, and as the Dutch Fleet 
were fast coming up, and some of the fire-ships making for 
the Royal Prince, they were forced to give up the attempt to 
succour her, and Sir George Ayscue, her captain, was obliged 
to haul down his flag and surrender. 

As soon as the White Squadron joined the remnant of the 
Fleet the whole advanced against the Dutch, drums beating 
and trumpets sounding, and twice made their way through 
the enemy’s line. But it was now growing dark, and the 
third day’s battle came to an end. The next morning it was 
seen that the Dutch, although considerably stronger than the 
English, were almost out of sight. The latter at once hoisted 
sail and pursued, and, at eight o’clock, came up with them. 

The Dutch finding the combat inevitable, the terrible fight 
was renewed, and raged, without intermission, until seven in 
the evening. Five times the British passed through the line 
of the Dutch. On both sides many ships fell out of the fight¬ 
ing line wholly disabled. Several were sunk, and some on 
both sides forced to surrender, being so battered as to be 
unable to withdraw from the struggle. Prince Rupert’s ship 
was wholly disabled, and that of Albemarle almost as severely 
damaged, and the battle, like those of the preceding days, 
ended without any decided advantage on either side. Both 
nations claimed the victory, but equally without reason. The 
Dutch historians compute our loss at sixteen men-of-war, of 


356 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


which ten were sunk and six taken, while we admitted only a 
loss of nine ships, and claimed that the Dutch lost fifteen 
men-of-war. Both parties acknowledged that it was the most 
terrible battle fought in this, or any other modern war. 

De Witte, who at that time was at the head of the Dutch 
Republic, and who was a bitter enemy of the English, owned, 
some time afterwards, to Sir William Temple, “that the Eng¬ 
lish got more glory to their nation through the invincible 
courage of their seamen during those engagements than by the 
two victories of this war, and that he was sure that his own 
fleet could not have been brought on to fight the fifth day, 
after the disadvantages of the fourth, and he believed that no 
other nation was capable of it but the English.” 

Cyril took no part in the last day’s engagement, for Prince 
Rupert, when the Fan Fan came near him on his arrival on 
the previous evening, returned his salute from the poop, and 
shouted to him that on no account was he to adventure into 
the fight with the Fan Fan. 

On the morning after the battle ended, Lord Oliphant.and 
Cyril rowed on board Prince Rupert’s ship, where every 
unwounded man was hard at work getting up a jury-mast or 
patching up the holes in the hull. 

“ Well, Sir Cyril, I see that you have been getting my yacht 
knocked about,” he said, as they came up to him. 

“There is not much damage done, sir. She has but two 
shot-holes in her hull.” 

“And my new mainsail spoiled. Do you know, sir, that I 
got a severe rating from the Duke yesterday evening, on your 
account? ” 

Cyril looked surprised. 

“ I trust, sir, that I have not in any way disobeyed orders? ” 

“ No, it was not that. He asked after the Fan Fan f and 
said that he had seen nothing of her during the day’s fighting, 
and I said I had strictly ordered you not to come into the 
battle. He replied, ‘ Then you did wrong, Prince, for that 
little yacht of yours did yeomen’s service during the first two 


THE FIGHT OFF DUNKIRK 


357 


days’ fighting. I told Sir Cyril to keep her near me, think¬ 
ing that she would be useful in carrying orders, and during 
those two days she kept close to us, save when we were sur¬ 
rounded by the enemy. Five times in those three days did 
she avert fire-ships from us. We were so damaged that we 
could sail but slowly, and, thinking us altogether unmanagea¬ 
ble, the Dutch launched their fire-ships. The Fan Fan rowed 
to meet them. Three of them were diverted from their course 
by a rope being thrown over the bowsprit, and the crew row¬ 
ing so as to turn her head. On the second day there was more 
wind, and the fire-ships could have held on their course in 
spite of the efforts of the men on board the Fan Fan. Twice 
during the day the little boat was boldly laid alongside them, 
while the crew boarded and captured them, and then, direct¬ 
ing them towards the Dutch ships, grappled and set them on 
fire. One of the Dutchmen was burned, the other managed 
to throw off the grapnels. It was all done under our eyes, 
and five times in the two days did my crew cheer your little 
yacht as she came alongside. So you see, Prince, by ordering 
her out of the fight you deprived us of the assistance of as 
boldly handled a little craft as ever sailed.’ 

“‘I am quite proud of my little yacht, gentlemen, and I 
thank you for having given her so good a christening under 
fire.’ But I must stay no longer talking. Here is the de¬ 
spatch I have written of my share of the engagement. You, 
Sir Cyril, will deliver this. You will now row to the Duke’s 
ship, and he will give you his despatches, which you, Lord 
Oliphant, will deliver. I need not say that you are to make 
all haste to the Thames. We have no ship to spare except 
the Fan Fan , for we must keep the few that are still able to 
manoeuvre, in case the Dutch should come out again before 
we have got the crippled ones in a state to make sail.” 

Taking leave of the Prince, they were at once rowed to 
the Duke’s flagship. They had a short interview with the 
Admiral, who praised them highly for the service they had 
rendered. 


358 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“You will have to tell the story of the fighting,” he said, 
“for the Prince and myself have written but few lines; we 
have too many matters on our minds to do scribe’s work. 
They will have heard, ere now, of the first two days’ fighting, 
for some of the ships that were sent back will have arrived at 
Harwich before this. By tomorrow morning I hope to have 
the Fleet so far refitted as to be able to follow you.” 

Five minutes later, the Fan Fan , with every stitch of sail 
set, was on her way to the Thames. As a brisk wind was 
blowing, they arrived in London twenty-four hours later, and 
at once proceeded to the Admiralty, the despatches being 
addressed to the Duke of York. They were immediately 
ushered in to him. Without a word he seized the despatches, 
tore them open, and ran his eye down them. 

“ God be praised! ” he exclaimed, when he finished them. 
“ We had feared even worse intelligence, and have been in a 
terrible state of anxiety since yesterday, when we heard from 
Harwich that one of the ships had come in with the news that 
more than half the Fleet was crippled or destroyed, and that 
twenty-eight only remained capable of continuing the battle. 
The only hope was that the White Squadron might arrive in 
time, and it seems that it has done so.. The account of our 
losses is indeed a terrible one, but at least we have suffered 
no defeat, and as the Dutch have retreated, they must have 
suffered well-nigh as much as we have done. Come along 
with me at once, gentlemen; I must go to the King to inform 
him of this great news, which is vastly beyond what we could 
have hoped for. The Duke, in his despatch, tells me that 
the bearers of it, Lord Oliphant and Sir Cyril Shenstone, 
have done very great service, having, in Prince Rupert’s little 
yacht, saved his flagship no less than five times from the 
attacks of the Dutch fire-ships.” 

The Duke had ordered his carriage to be in readiness as 
soon as he learnt that the bearers of despatches from the Fleet 
had arrived. It was already at the door, and, taking his seat 
in it, with Lord Oliphant and Cyril opposite to him, he was 



“WHAT NEWS, JAMES?” THE KING ASKEp EAGEKEY 


















































































































































































































































THE FIGHT OFF DUNKIRK 


359 


driven to the Palace, learning by the way such details as they 
could give him of the last two days’ fighting. He led them 
at once to the King’s dressing-room. Charles was already 
attired, for he had passed a sleepless night, and had risen 
early. 

“What news, James?” he asked eagerly. 

“ Good news, brother. After two more days’ fighting — 
and terrible fighting, on both sides — the Dutch Fleet has 
returned to its ports.” 

“A victory! ” the King exclaimed, in delight. 

“A dearly-bought one with the lives of so many brave 
men, but a victory nevertheless. Here are the despatches 
from Albemarle and Rupert. They have been brought by 
these gentlemen, with whom you are already acquainted, in 
Rupert’s yacht. Albemarle speaks very highly of their 
conduct.” 

The King took the despatches, and read them eagerly. 

“It has indeed been a dearly-bought victory,” he said, “but 
it is marvellous indeed how our captains and men bore them¬ 
selves. Never have they shown greater courage and endur¬ 
ance. Well may Monk say that, after four days of incessant 
fighting and four nights spent in the labour of repairing 
damages, the strength of all has well-nigh come to an end, 
and that he himself can write but a few lines to tell me of 
what has happened, leaving all details for further occasion. 
I thank you both, gentlemen, for the speed with which you 
have brought me this welcome news, and for the services of 
which the Duke of Albemarle speaks so warmly. This is the 
second time, Sir Cyril, that my admirals have had occasion 
to speak of great and honourable service rendered by you. 
Lord Oliphant, the Earl, your father, will have reason to be 
proud when he hears you so highly praised. Now, gentle¬ 
men, tell me more fully than is done in these despatches as to 
the incidents of the fighting. I have Tieard something of 
what took place in the first two days from an officer who 
posted up from Harwich yesterday.” 


360 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


Lord Oliphant related the events of the first two days, and 
then went on. 

“Of the last two I can say less, Your Majesty, for we took 
no part in, having Prince Rupert’s orders, given as he came 
up, that we should not adventure into the fight. Therefore, 
we were but spectators, though we kept on the edge of the 
fight and, if opportunity had offered, and we had seen one of 
our ships too hard pressed, and threatened by fire-ships, we 
should have ventured so far to transgress orders as to bear in 
and do what we could on her behalf; but indeed, the smoke 
was so great that we could see but little. 

“It was a strange sight, when, on the Prince’s arrival, his 
ships and those of the Duke’s, battered as they were, bore 
down on the Dutch line; the drums beating, the trumpets 
sounding, and the crews cheering loudly. We saw them dis¬ 
appear into the Dutch line; then the smoke shut all out from 
view, and for hours there was but a thick cloud of smoke and 
a continuous roar of the guns. Sometimes a vessel would 
come out from the curtain of smoke torn and disabled. Some¬ 
times it was a Dutchman, sometimes one of our own ships. If 
the latter, we rowed up to them and did our best with planks 
and nails to stop the yawning holes close to the water-line, 
while the crew knotted ropes and got up the spars and yards, 
and then sailed back into the fight. 

“The first day’s fighting was comparatively slight, for the 
Dutch seemed to be afraid to close with the Duke’s ships, 
and hung behind at a distance. It was not till the White 
Squadron came up, and the Duke turned, with Prince Rupert, 
and fell upon his pursuers like a wounded boar upon the dogs, 
that the battle commenced in earnest; but the last day it went 
on for nigh twelve hours without intermission; and when at 
last the roar of the guns ceased, and the smoke slowly cleared 
off, it was truly a pitiful sight, so torn and disabled were the 
ships. 

“As the two fleets separated, drifting apart as it would 
almost seem, so few were the sails now set, we row'ed up 


THE FIGHT OFF DUNKIRK 


361 


among them, and for hours were occupied in picking up men 
clinging to broken spars and wreckage, for but few of the 
ships had so much as a single boat left. We were fortunate 
enough to save well-nigh a hundred, of whom more than 
seventy were our own men, the remainder Dutch. From these 
last we learnt that the ships of Van Tromp and Ruyter had 
both been so disabled that they had been forced to fall out of 
battle, and had been towed away to port. They said that their 
Admirals Cornelius Evertz and Van der Hulst had both been 
killed, while on our side we learnt that Admiral Sir Christo¬ 
pher Mings had fallen.” 

“ Did the Dutch Fleet appear to be as much injured as our 
own? ” 

“No, Your Majesty. Judging by the sail set when the 
battle was over, theirs must have been in better condition than 
ours, which is not surprising, seeing how superior they were 
in force, and for the most part bigger ships, and carrying 
more guns.” 

“Then you will have your hands full, James, or they will 
be ready to take to sea again before we are. Next time I hope 
that we shall meet them with more equal numbers.” 

“I will do the best I can, brother,” the Duke replied. 
“Though we have so many ships sorely disabled there have 
been but few lost, and we can supply their places with the 
vessels that have been building with all haste. If the Dutch 
will give us but two months’ time I warrant that we shall be 
able to meet them in good force.” 

As soon as the audience was over, Cyril and his friend re¬ 
turned to the Fan Fan, and after giving the crew a few hours 
for sleep, sailed down to Sheerness, where, shortly afterwards, 
Prince Rupert arrived with a portion of the Fleet, the rest 
having been ordered to Harwich, Portsmouth, and other 
ports, so that they could be more speedily refitted. 

Although the work went on almost without intermission day 
and night, the repairs were not completed before the news 
arrived that the Dutch Fleet had again put to sea. Two days 


362 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


later they arrived off our coast, where, finding no fleet ready 
to meet them, they sailed away to France, where they hoped 
to be joined by their French allies. 

Two days later, however, our ships began to assemble at the 
mouth of the Thames, and on June 24th the whole Fleet was 
ready to take to sea. It consisted of eighty men-of-war, large 
and small, and nineteen fire-ships. Prince Rupert was in 
command of the Red Squadron, and the Duke of Albemarle 
sailed with him, on board the same ship. Sir Thomas 
Allen was Admiral of the White, and Sir Jeremiah Smith 
of the Blue Squadron. Cyril remained on board the Fan 
Fan , Lord Oliphant returning to his duties on board the 
flagship. Marvels had been effected by the zeal and energy 
of the crews and dockyard men. But three weeks back, the 
English ships had, for the most part, been crippled seemingly 
almost beyond repair, but now, with their holes patched, with 
new spars, and in the glory of fresh paint and new canvas, 
they made as brave a show as when they had sailed out from 
the Downs a month previously. 

They were anchored off the Nore when, late in the evening, 
the news came out from Sheerness that a mounted messenger 
had just ridden in from Dover, and that the Dutch Fleet had, 
in the afternoon, passed the town, and had rounded the South 
Foreland, steering north. 

Orders were at once issued that the Fleet should sail at day¬ 
break, and at three o’clock the next morning they were on 
their way down the river. At ten o’clock the Dutch Fleet 
was seen off the North Foreland. According to their own 
accounts they numbered eighty-eight men-of-war, with twenty- 
five fire-ships, and were also divided into three squadrons, 
under De Ruyter, John Evertz, and Van Tromp. 

The engagement began at noon by an attack by the White 
Squadron upon that commanded by Evertz. An hour later, 
Prince Rupert and the Duke, with the Red Squadron, fell 
upon De Ruyter, while that of Van Tromp, which was at some 
distance from the others, was engaged by Sir Jeremiah Smith 


THE FIGHT OFF DUNKIRK 


363 


with the Blue Squadron. Sir Thomas Allen completely de¬ 
feated his opponents, killing Evertz, his vice- and rear- 
admirals, capturing the vice-admiral of Zeeland, who was 
with him, and burning a ship of fifty guns. 

The Red Squadron was evenly matched by that of De 
Ruyter, and each vessel laid itself alongside an adversary. 
Although De Ruyter himself and his vice-admiral, Van Ness, 
fought obstinately, their ships in general, commanded, for the 
most part, by men chosen for their family influence rather 
than for either seamanship or courage, behaved but badly, 
and all but seven gradually withdrew from the fight, and 
went off under all sail; and De Ruyter, finding himself thus 
deserted, was forced also to draw off. During this time, Van 
Tronftp, whose squadron was the strongest of the three Dutch 
divisions, was so furiously engaged by the Blue Squadron, 
which was the weakest of the English divisions, that he was 
unable to come to the assistance of his consorts; when, how¬ 
ever, he saw the defeat of the rest of the Dutch Fleet, he, 
too, was obliged to draw off, lest he should have the whole 
of the English down upon him, and was able the more 
easily to do so as darkness was closing in when the battle 
ended. 

The Dutch continued their retreat during the night, fol¬ 
lowed at a distance by the Red Squadron, which was, next 
morning, on the point of overtaking them, when the Dutch 
sought refuge by steering into the shallows, which their light 
draught enabled them to cross, while the deeper English ships 
were unable to follow. Great was the wrath and disappoint¬ 
ment of the English when they saw themselves thus baulked 
of reaping the full benefit of the victory. Prince Rupert 
shouted to Cyril, who, in the Fan Fan , had taken but small 
share in the engagement, as the fire-ships had not played any 
conspicuous part in it. 

“Sir Cyril, we can go no farther, but do you pursue De 
Ruyter and show him in what contempt we hold him.” 

Cyril lifted his hat to show that he heard and understood 


364 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


the order. Then he ordered his men to get out their oars, for 
the wind was very light, and, amidst loud cheering, mingled 
with laughter, from the crews of the vessels that were near 
enough to hear Prince Rupert’s order, the Fan Fan rowed out 
from the English line in pursuit of the Dutch. 



a 





CHAPTER XXI 

LONDON IN FLAMES 

'T'HE sailors laughed and joked as they rowed away from the 
* Fleet, but the old boatswain shook his head. 

“We shall have to be careful, Sir Cyril,” he said. “It is 
like a small cur barking at the heels of a bull — it is good fun 
enough for a bit, but when the bull turns, perchance the dog 
will find himself thrown high in the air.” 

Cyril nodded. He himself considered Prince Rupert’s 
order to be beyond all reason, and given only in the heat of 
his anger at De Ruyter having thus escaped him, and felt that 
it was very likely to cost the lives of all on board the Fan 
Fan . However, there was nothing to do but to carry it out. 
It seemed to him that the boatswain’s simile was a very apt 
one, and that, although the spectacle of the Fan Fan worry¬ 
ing the great Dutch battle-ship might be an amusing one to 
the English spectators, it was likely to be a very serious ad¬ 
venture for her. 

De Ruyter’s ship, which was in the rear of all the other 
Dutch vessels, was but a mile distant when the Fan Fan 
started, and as the wind was so light that it scarce filled her 
sails, the yacht approached her rapidly. 

“We are within half a mile now, your honour,” the boat¬ 
swain said. “ I should say we had better go no nearer if we 
don’t want to be blown out of the water.” 

“Yes; I think we may as well stop rowing now, and get the 
guns to work. There are only those two cannon in her stern 

365 





366 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


ports which can touch us here. She will scarcely come up in 
the wind to give us a broadside. She is moving so slowly 
through the water that it would take her a long time to come 
round, and De Ruyter would feel ashamed to bring his great 
flag-ship round to crush such a tiny foe.” 

The boatswain went forward to the guns, round which the 
men, after laying in their oars, clustered in great glee. 

“Now,” he said, “you have got to make those two guns in 
the stern your mark. Try and send your shots through the 
port-holes. It will be a waste to fire them at the hull, for the 
balls would not penetrate the thick timber that she is built of. 
Remember, the straighter you aim the more chance there is 
that the Dutch won’t hit us. Men don’t stop to aim very 
straight when they are expecting a shot among them every 
second. We will fire alternately, and one gun is not to fire 
until the other is loaded again. I will lay the first gun myself.” 

It was a good shot, and the crew cheered as they saw the 
splinters fly at the edge of the port-hole. Shot after shot was 
fired with varying success. 

The Dutch made no reply, and seemed to ignore the pres¬ 
ence of their tiny foe. The crew were, for the most part, busy 
aloft repairing damages, and after half an hour’s firing, with¬ 
out eliciting a reply, the boatswain went aft to Cyril, and 
suggested that they should now aim at the spars. 

“A lucky shot might do a good deal of damage, sir,” he 
said. “The weather is fine enough at present, but there is no 
saying when a change may come, and if we could weaken one 
of the main spars it might be the means of her being blown 
ashore, should the wind spring up in the right direction.” 

Cyril assented, and fire was now directed at the masts. A 
few ropes were cut away, but no serious damage was effected 
until a shot struck one of the halliard blocks of the spanker, 
and the sail at once ran down. 

“It has taken a big bit out of the mast, too,” the boatswain 
called exultingly to Cyril. “I think that will rouse the 
Dutchmen up.” 


LONDON IN FLAMES 


367 

A minute later it was evident that the shot had at least had 
that effect. Two puffs of smoke spirted out from the stern of 
the Dutch flagship, and, simultaneously with the roar of the 
guns, came the hum of two heavy shot flying overhead. De¬ 
lighted at having excited the Dutchmen’s wrath at last, the 
crew of the Fan Fan took off their hats and gave a loud cheer, 
and then, more earnestly than before, settled down to work ; 
their guns aimed now, as at first, at the port-holes. Four or 
five shots were discharged from each of the little guns before 
the Dutch were ready again. Then came the thundering 
reports. The Fan Fan's topmast was carried away by one of 
the shot, but the other went wide. Two or three men were 
told to cut away the wreckage, and the rest continued their 
fire. One of the next shots of the enemy was better directed. 
It struck the deck close to the foot of the mast, committed 
great havoc in Cyril’s cabin, and passed out through the stern 
below the water-line. Cyril leapt down the companion as he 
heard the crash, shouting to the boatswain to follow him. 
The water was coming through the hole in a great jet. Cyril 
seized a pillow and stuffed it into the shot-hole, being drenched 
from head to foot in the operation. One of the sailors had 
followed the boatswain, and Cyril called him to his assistance. 

“Get out the oars at once,” he said to the boatswain. “ An¬ 
other shot like this and she will go down. Get a piece cut 
off a spar and make a plug. There is no holding this pillow 
in its place, and the water comes in fast still.” 

The sailor took Cyril’s post while he ran up on deck and 
assisted in cutting the plug; this was roughly shaped to the 
size of the hole, and then driven in. It stopped the rush of 
the water, but a good deal still leaked through. 

By the time this was done the Fan Fan had considerably 
increased her distance from De Ruyter. Four or five more 
shots were fired from the Dutch ship. The last of these struck 
the mast ten feet above the deck, bringing it down with a 
crash. Fortunately, none of the crew were hurt, and, drop¬ 
ping the oars, they hauled the mast alongside, cut the sail 


368 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


from its fastening to the hoops and gaff, and then severed the 
shrouds and allowed the mast to drift away, while they again 
settled themselves to the oars. Although every man rowed his 
hardest, the Fan Fan was half full of water before she reached 
the Fleet, which was two miles astern of them when they first 
began to row. 

“Well done, Fan Fan!” Prince Rupert shouted, as the 
little craft came alongside. “ Have you suffered any damage 
besides your spars? I see you are low in the water.” 

“We were shot through our stern, sir; we put in a plug, 
but the water comes in still. Will you send a carpenter on 
board? For I don’t think she will float many minutes longer 
unless we get the hole better stopped.” 

The Prince gave some orders to an officer standing by him. 
The latter called two or three sailors and bade them bring 
some short lengths of thick hawser, while a strong party were 
set to reeve tackle to the mainyard. As soon as the hawsers, 
each thirty feet in length, were brought, they were dropped 
on to the deck of the Fan Fan , and the officer told the crew 
to pass them under her, one near each end, and to knot the 
hawsers. By the time this was done, two strong tackles were 
lowered and fixed to the hawsers, and the crew ordered to 
come up on to the ship. The tackles were then manned and 
hauled on by strong parties, and the Fan Fan was gradually 
raised. The boatswain went below again and knocked out the 
plug, and, as the little yacht was hoisted up, the water ran 
out of it. As soon as the hole was above the water-level, the 
tackle at the bow was gradually slackened off until she lay 
with her fore-part in the water, which came some distance up 
her deck. The carpenter then slung himself over the stern, 
and nailed, first a piece of tarred canvas, and then a square 
of plank, over the hole. Then the stern tackle was eased off, 
and the Fan Fan floated on a level keel. Her crew went 
down to her again, and, in half an hour, pumped her free of 
water. 

By this time, the results of the victory were known. On 


LONDON IN FLAMES 


369 


the English side, the Resolution was the only ship lost, she 
having been burnt by a Dutch fire-ship; three English cap¬ 
tains, and about three hundred men were killed. On the 
other hand, the Dutch lost twenty ships, four admirals, a great 
many of their captains, and some four thousand men. It 
was, indeed, the greatest and most complete victory gained 
throughout the war. Many of the British ships had suffered 
a good deal, that which carried the Duke’s flag most of all, 
for it had been so battered in the fight with De Ruyter that 
the Duke and Prince Rupert had been obliged to leave her, 
and to hoist their flags upon another man-of-war. 

The next morning the Fleet sailed to Schonevelt, which was 
the usual rendezvous of the Dutch Fleet, and there remained 
some time, altogether undisturbed by the enemy. The Fan 
Fan was here thoroughly repaired. 

On July 29th they sailed for Ulic, where they arrived on 
August 7th, the wind being contrary. 

Learning that there was a large fleet of merchantmen lying 
between the islands of Ulic and Schelling, guarded by but 
two men-of-war, and that there were rich magazines of goods 
on these islands, it was determined to attack them. Four 
small frigates, of a slight draught of water, and five fire-ships, 
were selected for the attack, together with the boats of the 
Fleet, manned by nine hundred men. 

On the evening of the 8th, Cyril was ordered to go, in the 
Fan Fan , to reconnoitre the position of the Dutch. He did 
not sail until after nightfall, and, on reaching the passage 
between the islands, he lowered his sails, got out his oars, 
and drifted with the tide silently down through the Dutch 
merchant fleet, where no watch seemed to be kept, and in the 
morning carried the news to Sir Robert Holmes, the com¬ 
mander of the expedition, who had anchored a league from 
the entrance. 

Cyril had sounded the passage as he went through, and it 
was found that two of the frigates could not enter it. These 
were left at the anchorage, and, on arriving at the mouth of 


370 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


the harbour, the Tiger , Sir Robert Holmes’s flagship, was also 
obliged to anchor, and he came on board the Fan Fan , on 
which he hoisted his flag. The captains of the other ships 
came on board, and it was arranged that the Pembroke , which 
had but a small draught of water, should enter at once with 
the five fire-ships. 

The attack was completely successful. Two of the fire¬ 
ships grappled with the men-of-war and burnt them, while 
three great merchantmen were destroyed by the others. Then 
the boats dashed into the fleet, and, with the exception of' 
four or five merchantmen and four privateers, who took refuge 
in a creek, defended by a battery, the whole of the hundred 
and seventy merchantmen, the smallest of which was not less 
than 200 tons burden, and all heavily laden, were burned. 

The next day, Sir Robert Holmes landed eleven companies 
of troops on the Island of Schonevelt and burnt Bandaris, its 
principal town, with its magazines and store-houses, causing 
a loss to the Dutch, according to their own admission, of six 
million guilders. This, and the loss of the great Fleet, in¬ 
flicted a very heavy blow upon the commerce of Holland. 
The Fan Fan had been hit again by a shot from one of the 
batteries, and, on her rejoining the Fleet, Prince Rupert 
determined to send her to England so that she could be thor¬ 
oughly repaired and fitted out again. Cyril’s orders were to 
take her to Chatham, and to hand her over to the dockyard 
authorities. 

“ I do not think the Dutch will come out and fight us again 
this autumn, Sir Cyril, so you can take your ease in London 
as it pleases you. We are now halfway through August, and 
it will probably be at least a month after your arrival before 
the Fan Fan is fit for sea again. It may be a good deal 
longer than that, for they are busy upon the repairs of the 
ships sent home after the battle, and will hardly take any 
hands off these to put on to the Fan Fan. In October we 
shall all be coming home again, so that, until next spring, it 
is hardly likely that there will be aught doing.” 



LONDON IN FLAMES 


371 


Cyril accordingly returned to London. The wind was con¬ 
trary, and it was not until the last day of August that he 
dropped anchor in the Medway. After spending a night at 
Chatham, he posted up to London the next morning, and, 
finding convenient chambers in the Savoy, he installed him¬ 
self there, and then proceeded to the house of the Earl of 
Wisbech, to whom he was the bearer of a letter from his son. 
Finding that the Earl and his family were down at his place 
near Sevenoaks, he went into the City, and spent the evening 
at Captain Dave’s, having ordered his servant to pack a small 
valise, and bring it with the two horses in the morning. He 
had gone to bed but an hour when he was awoke by John 
Wilkes knocking at his door. 

“There is a great fire burning not far off, Sir Cyril. A 
man who ran past told me it was in Pudding Lane, at the top 
of Fish Street. The Captain is getting up, and is going out 
to see it; for, with such dry weather as we have been having, 
there is no saying how far it may go.” 

Cyril sprang out of his bed and dressed. Captain Dave, 
accustomed to slip on his clothes in a hurry, was waiting for 
him, and, with John Wilkes, they sallied out. There was a 
broad glare of light in the sky, and the bells of many of the 
churches were ringing out the fire-alarm. As they passed, 
many people put their heads out from windows and asked 
where the fire was. In five minutes they approached the 
scene. A dozen houses were blazing fiercely, while, from 
those near, the inhabitants were busily removing their valua¬ 
bles. The Fire Companies, with their buckets, were already 
at work, and lines of men were formed down to the river and 
were passing along buckets from hand to hand. Well-nigh 
half the water was spilt, however, before it arrived at the fire, 
and, in the face of such a body of flame, it seemed to make 
no impression whatever. 

“They might as well attempt to pump out a leaky ship with 
a child’s squirt,” the Captain said. “The fire will burn it¬ 
self out, and we must pray heaven that the wind drops alto- 


372 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


gether; *tis not strong, but it will suffice to carry the flames 
across these narrow streets. ’Tis lucky that it is from the 
east, so there is little fear that it will travel in our direc¬ 
tion.” 

They learnt that the fire had begun in the house of Faryner, 
the King’s baker, though none knew how it had got alight. 
It was not long before the flames leapt across the lane, five or 
six houses catching fire almost at the same moment. A cry 
of dismay broke from the crowd, and the fright of the neigh¬ 
bours increased. Half-clad women hurried from their houses, 
carrying their babes, and dragging their younger children out. 
Men staggered along with trunks of clothing and valuables. 
Many wrung their hands helplessly, while the City Watch 
guarded the streets leading to Pudding Lane, so as to prevent 
thieves and vagabonds from taking advantage of the confu¬ 
sion to plunder. 

With great rapidity the flames spread from house to house. 
A portion of Fish Street was already invaded, and the Church 
of St. Magnus in danger. The fears of the people increased 
in proportion to the advance of the conflagration. The whole 
neighbourhood was now alarmed, and, in all the streets round, 
people were beginning to remove their goods. The river 
seemed to be regarded by all as the safest place of refuge. 
The boats from the various landing-places had already come 
up, and these were doing a thriving trade by taking the 
frightened people, with what goods they carried, to lighters 
and ships moored in the river. 

The lines of men passing buckets had long since broken 
up, it being too evident that their efforts were not of the 
slightest avail. The wind had, in the last two hours, rapidly 
increased in strength, and was carrying the burning embers 
far and wide. 

Cyril and his companions had, after satisfying their first 
curiosity, set to work to assist the fugitives, by aiding them 
to carry down their goods to the waterside. Cyril was now 
between eighteen and nineteen, and had grown into a power- 


LONDON IN FLAMES 


373 


ful, young fellow, having, since he recovered from the Plague, 
grown fast and widened out greatly. He was able to shoulder 
heavy trunks, and to carry them down without difficulty. 

By six o’clock, however, all were exhausted by their labours, 
and Captain Dave’s proposal, that they should go back and 
get breakfast and have a wash, was at once agreed to. 

At this time the greater part of Fish Street was in flames, 
the Church of St. Magnus had fallen, and the flames had 
spread to many of the streets and alleys running west. The 
houses on the Bridge were blazing. 

“Well, father, what is the news?” Nellie exclaimed, as 
they entered. “What have you been doing? You are all 
blackened, like the men who carry out the coals from the 
ships. I never saw such figures.” 

“ We have been helping people to carry their goods down 
to the water, Nellie. The news is bad. The fire is a terrible 
one.” 

“That we can see, father. Mother and I were at the win¬ 
dow for hours after you left, and the whole sky seemed ablaze. 
Do you think that there is any danger of its coming here? ” 

“The wind is taking the flames the other way, Nellie, but 
in spite of that I think that there is danger. The heat is so 
great that the houses catch on this side, and we saw, as we 
came back, that it had travelled eastwards. Truly, I believe 
that if the wind keeps on as it is at present, the whole City 
will be destroyed. However, we will have a wash first and 
then some breakfast, of which we are sorely in need. Then 
we can talk over what had best be done.” 

Little was said during breakfast. The apprentices had 
already been out, and so excited were they at the scenes they 
had witnessed that they had difficulty in preserving their usual 
quiet and submissive demeanour. Captain Dave was wearied 
with his unwonted exertions. Mrs. Dowsett and Nellie both 
looked pale and anxious, and Cyril and John Wilkes were 
oppressed by the terrible scene of destruction and the wide¬ 
spread misery they had witnessed. 


374 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


When breakfast was over, Captain Dave ordered the appren¬ 
tices on no account to leave the premises. They were to put 
up the shutters at once, and then to await orders. 

“What do you think we had better do, Cyril?” he said, 
when the boys had left the room. 

“ I should say that you had certainly better go on board a 
ship, Captain Dave. There is time to move now quietly, and 
to get many things taken on board, but if there were a swift 
change of wind the flames would come down so suddenly that 
you would have no time to save anything. Do you know of 
a captain who would receive you? ” 

“Certainly; I know of half a dozen.” 

“Then the first thing is to secure a boat before they are all 
taken up.” 

“ I will go down to the stairs at once.” 

“Then I should say, John, you had better go off with Cap¬ 
tain Dave, and, as soon as he has arranged with one of the 
captains, come back to shore. Let the waterman lie off in 
the stream, for if the flames come this way there will be a rush 
for boats, and people will not stop to ask to whom they be¬ 
long. It will be better still to take one of the apprentices 
with you, leave him at the stairs till you return, and then tie 
up to a ship till we hail him.” 

“That will be the best plan,” Captain Dave said. “Now, 
wife, you and Nellie and the maid had best set to work at 
once packing up all your best clothes and such other things 
as you may think most valuable. We shall have time, I 
hope, to make many trips.” 

“While you are away, I will go along the street and see 
whether the fire is making any way in this direction,” Cyril 
said. “Of course if it’s coming slowly you will have time to 
take away a great many things. And we may even hope that 
it may not come here at all.” 

Taking one of the apprentices, Captain Dave and John at 
once started for the waterside, while Cyril made his way 
westward. 


LONDON IN FLAMES 


375 


Already, people were bringing down their goods from most 
of the houses. Some acted as if they believed that if they 
took the goods out of the houses they would be safe, and great 
piles of articles of all kinds almost blocked the road. Weep¬ 
ing women and frightened children sat on these piles as if to 
guard them. Some stood at their doors wringing their hands 
helplessly; others were already starting eastward laden with 
bundles and boxes, occasionally looking round as if to bid 
farewell to their homes. Many of the men seemed even more 
confused and frightened than the women, running hither and 
thither without purpose, shouting, gesticulating, and seeming 
almost distraught with fear and grief. 

Cyril had not gone far when he saw that the houses on both 
sides of the street, at the further end, were already in flames. 
He was obliged to advance with great caution, for many people 
were recklessly throwing goods of all kinds from the windows, 
regardless of whom they might fall upon, and without thought 
of how they were to be carried away. He went on until close 
to the fire, and stood for a time watching. The noise was 
bewildering. Mingled with the roar of the flames, the crack¬ 
ling of woodwork, and the heavy crashes that told of the fall 
of roofs or walls, was the clang of the alarm-bells, shouts, 
cries, and screams. The fire spread steadily, but with none 
of the rapidity with which he had seen it fly along from house 
to house on the other side of the conflagration. The houses, 
however, were largely composed of wood. The balconies 
generally caught first, and the fire crept along under the roofs, 
and sometimes a shower of tiles, and a burst of flames, showed 
that it had advanced there, while the lower portion of the 
house was still intact. 

“Is it coming, Cyril?” Mrs. Dowsett asked, when he re¬ 
turned. 

“It is coming steadily,” he said, “and can be stopped 
by nothing short of a miracle. Can I help you in any 
way? ” 

“No,” she said; “we have packed as many things as can 


376 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


possibly be carried. It is well that your things are all at your 
lodging, Cyril, and beyond the risk of this danger.” 

“It would have mattered little about them,” he said. “I 
could have replaced them easily enough. That is but a ques¬ 
tion of money. And now, in the first place, I will get the 
trunks and bundles you have packed downstairs. That will 
save time.” 

Assisted by the apprentice and Nellie, Cyril got all the 
things downstairs. 

“ How long have we, do you think? ” Nellie asked. 

“I should say that in three hours the fire will be here,” he 
said. “It may be checked a little at the cross lanes; but I 
fear that three hours is all we can hope for.” 

Just as they had finished taking down the trunks, Captain 
Dave and John Wilkes arrived. 

“I have arranged the affair,” the former said. “My old 
friend, Dick Watson, will take us in his ship; she lies but a 
hundred yards from the stairs. Now, get on your mantle and 
hood, Nellie, and bring your mother and maid down.” 

The three women were soon at the foot of the stairs, and 
Mrs. Dowsett’s face showed signs of tears; but, though pale, 
she was quiet and calm, and the servant, a stout wench, had 
gained confidence from her mistress’s example. As soon as 
they were ready, the three men each shouldered a trunk. 
The servant and the apprentice carried one between them. 
Mrs. Dowsett and her daughter took as many bundles as they 
could carry. It was but five minutes’ walk down to the stairs. 
The boat was lying twenty yards out in the stream, fastened 
up to a lighter, with the apprentice and waterman on board. 
It came at once alongside, and in five minutes they reached 
the Good Venture. As soon as the women had ascended the 
accommodation ladder, some sailors ran down and helped to 
carry up the trunks. 

“Empty them all out in the cabin,” Captain Dave said to 
his wife; “we will take them back with us.” 

As soon as he had seen the ladies into the cabin, Captain 


LONDON IN FLAMES 


377 


Watson called his son Frank, who was his chief mate, and 
half a dozen of his men. These carried the boxes, as fast as 
they were emptied, down into the boat. 

“We will all go ashore together,” he said to Captain Dave. 
“ I was a fool not to think of it before. We will soon make 
light work of it.”. 

As soon as they reached the house, some of the sailors were 
sent off with the remaining trunks and bundles, while the 
others carried upstairs those they had brought, and quickly 
emptied into them the remaining contents of the drawers and 
linen press. So quickly and steadily did the work go on, that 
no less than six trips were made to the Good Venture in the 
next three hours, and at the end of that time almost every¬ 
thing portable had been carried away, including several pieces 
of valuable furniture, and a large number of objects brought 
home by Captain Dave from his various voyages. The last 
journey, indeed, was devoted to saving some of the most val¬ 
uable contents of the store. Captain Dave, delighted at 
having saved so much, would not have thought of taking more, 
but Captain Watson would not hear of this. 

“There is time for one more trip, old friend,” he said, 
“and there are many things in your store that are worth more 
than their weight in silver. I will take my other two hands 
this time, and, with the eight men and our five selves, we 
shall be able to bring a good load.” 

The trunks were therefore this time packed with ship’s 
instruments, and brass fittings of all kinds, to the full weight 
that could be carried. All hands then set to work, and, in a 
very short time, a great proportion of the portable goods were 
carried from the store-house into an arched cellar beneath it. 
By the time that they were ready to start there were but six 
houses between them and the fire. 

“I wish we had another three hours before us,” Captain 
Watson said. “It goes to one’s heart to leave all this new 
rope and sail cloth, good blocks, and other things, to be 
burnt.” 


378 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“There have been better things than that burnt to-day, 
Watson. Few men have saved as much as I have, thanks to 
your assistance and that of these stout sailors of yours. Why, 
the contents of these twelve boxes are worth as much as the 
whole of the goods remaining.” 

The sailors’ loads were so heavy that they*had to help each 
other to get them upon their shoulders, and the other five were 
scarcely less weighted; and, short as was the distance, all had 
to rest several times on the way to the stairs, setting their 
burdens upon window-sills, or upon boxes scattered in the 
streets. One of the ship’s boats had, after the first trip, taken 
the place of the light wherry, but even this was weighted 
down to the gunwale when the men and the goods were all on 
board. After the first two trips, the contents of the boxes had 
been emptied on deck, and by the time the last arrived the 
three women had packed away in the empty cabins all the 
clothing, linen, and other articles, that had been taken below. 
Captain Watson ordered a stiff glass of grog to be given to 
each of the sailors, and then went down with the others into 
the main cabin, where the steward had already laid the table 
for a meal, and poured out five tumblers of wine. 

“ I have not had so tough a job since I was before the mast,” 
he said. “What say you, Captain Dave?” 

“It has been a hard morning’s work, indeed, Watson, and, 
in truth, I feel fairly spent. But though weary in body I am 
cheerful in heart. It seemed to me at breakfast-time that we 
should save little beyond what we stood in, and now I have 
rescued well-nigh everything valuable that I have. I should 
have grieved greatly had I lost all those mementos that it took 
me nigh thirty years to gather, and those pieces of furniture 
that belonged to my father 1 would not have lost for any 
money. Truly, it has been a noble salvage.” 

Mrs. Dowsett and Nellie now joined them. They had quite 
recovered their spirits, and were delighted at the unexpected 
rescue of so many things precious to them, and Captain Wat¬ 
son was overwhelmed by their thanks for what he had done. 


LONDON IN FLAMES 


379 


After the meal was over they sat quietly talking for a time, 
and then Cyril proposed that they should row up the river and 
see what progress the fire was making above the Bridge. Mrs. 
Dowsett, however, was too much fatigued by her sleepless 
night and the troubles and emotions of the morning to care 
about going. Captain Dave said that he was too stiff too 
do anything but sit quiet and smoke a pipe, and that he would 
superintend the getting of their things on deck a little ship¬ 
shape. Nellie embraced the offer eagerly, and young Watson, 
who was a well-built and handsome fellow, with a pleasant 
face and manner, said that he would go, and would take a 
couple of hands to row. The tide had just turned to run up 
when they set out. Cyril asked the first mate to steer, and he 
sat on one side of him and Nellie on the other. 

“You will have to mind your oars, lads,” Frank Watson 
said. “The river is crowded with boats.” 

They crossed over to the Southwark side, as it would have 
been dangerous to pass under the arches above which the 
houses were burning. The flames, however, had not spread 
right across the bridge, for the houses were built only over the 
piers, and the openings at the arches had checked the flames, 
and at these points numbers of men were drawing water in 
buckets and throwing it over the fronts of the houses, or pass¬ 
ing them, by ropes, to other men on the roofs, which were 
kept deluged with water. Hundreds of willing hands were 
engaged in the work, for the sight of the tremendous fire on 
the opposite bank filled people with terror lest the flames 
should cross the bridge and spread to the south side of the 
river. The warehouses and wharves on the bank were black 
with spectators, who looked with astonishment and awe at the 
terrible scene of destruction. 

It was not until they passed under the bridge that the full 
extent of the conflagration was visible. The fire had made its 
way some distance along Thames Street, and had spread far 
up into the City. Gracechurch Street and Lombard Street 
were in flames, and indeed the fire seemed to have extended a 


380 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


long distance further; but the smoke was so dense that it was 
difficult to make out the precise point that it had reached. 
The river was a wonderful sight. It was crowded with boats 
and lighters, all piled up with goods, while along the quays 
from Dowgate to the Temple, crowds of people were engaged 
in placing what goods they had saved on board lighters and 
other craft. Many of those in the boats seemed altogether 
helpless and undecided as to what had best be done, and 
drifted along with the tide, but the best part were making 
either for the marshes at Lambeth or the fields at Millbank, 
there to land their goods, the owners of the boats refusing to 
keep them long on board, as they desired to return by the 
next tide to fetch away other cargoes, being able to obtain 
any price they chose to demand for their services. 

Among the boats were floating goods and wreckage of all 
kinds, charred timber that had fallen from the houses on the 
bridge, and from the warehouses by the quays, bales of goods, 
articles of furniture, bedding, and other matters. At times, 
a sudden change of wind drove a dense smoke across the water, 
flakes of burning embers and papers causing great confusion 
among the boats, and threatening to set the piles of goods 
on fire. 

At Frank Watson’s suggestion, they landed at the Temple, 
after having been some two hours on the river. Going up 
into Fleet Street, they found a stream of carts and other 
vehicles proceeding westward, all piled with furniture and 
goods, mostly of a valuable kind. The pavements were well- 
nigh blocked with people, all journeying in the same direc¬ 
tion, laden with their belongings. With difficulty they made 
their way East as far as St. Paul’s. The farther end of Cheap- 
side was already in flames, and they learnt that the fire had 
extended as far as Moorfields. It was said that efforts had 
been made to pull down houses and so check its progress, but 
that there was no order or method, and that no benefit was 
gained by the work. 

After looking on at the scene for some time, they returned 


LONDON IN FLAMES 


381 


to Fleet Street. Frank Watson went down with Nellie to the 
boat, while Cyril went to his lodgings in the Savoy. Here 
he found his servant anxiously awaiting him. 

“I did not bring the horses this morning, sir,” he said. 
“ I heard that there was a great fire, and went on foot as far 
as I could get, but, finding that I could not pass, I thought it 
best to come back here and await your return.” 

“Quite right, Reuben; you could not have got the horses 
to me unless you had ridden round the walls and come in at 
Aldgate, and they would have been useless had you brought 
them. The house at which I stayed last night is already 
burnt to the ground. You had better stay here for the pres¬ 
ent, I think. There is no fear of the fire extending beyond 
the City. Should you find that it does so, pack my clothes 
in the valises, take the horses down to Sevenoaks, and remain 
at the Earl’s until you hear from me.” 

Having arranged this, Cyril went down to the Savoy stairs, 
where he found the boat waiting for him, and then they rowed 
back to London Bridge, where, the force of the tide being 
now abated, they were able to row through and get to the 
Good Venture. 

They had but little sleep that night. Gradually the fire 
worked its way eastward until it was abreast of them. The 
roaring and crackling of the flames was prodigious. Here 
and there the glare was diversified by columns of a deeper 
red glow, showing where warehouses, filled with pitch, tar, 
and oil, were in flames. The heavy crashes of falling build¬ 
ings were almost incessant. Occasionally they saw a church 
tower or steeple, that had stood for a time black against the 
glowing sky, become suddenly wreathed in flames, and, after 
burning for a time, fall with a crash that could be plainly 
heard above the general roar. 

“ Surely such a fire was never seen before! ” Captain Dave 
said. 

“Not since Rome was burnt, I should think/’ Cyril 
replied. 


382 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


“How long was that ago, Cyril? I don’t remember hear¬ 
ing about it.” 

“ ’Tis fifteen hundred years or so since then, Captain Dave; 
but the greater part of the city was destroyed, and Rome was 
then many times bigger than London. It burnt for three 
days.” 

“Well, this is bad enough,” Captain Watson said. “Even 
here the heat is well-nigh too great to face. Frank, you had 
better call the crew up and get all the sails off the yards. 
Were a burning flake to fall on them we might find it difficult 
to extinguish them. When they have done that, let the men 
get all the buckets filled with water and ranged on the deck; 
and it will be as well to get a couple of hands in the boat and 
let them chuck water against this side. We shall have all the 
paint blistered off before morning.” 

So the night passed. Occasionally they went below for a 
short time, but they found it impossible to sleep, and were 
soon up again, and felt it a relief when the morning began to 
break. 




CHAPTER XXII 

AFTER THE FIRE 

TYAYLIGHT brought little alleviation to the horrors of the 
U scene. The flames were less vivid, but a dense pall of 
smoke overhung the sky. As soon as they had breakfasted, 
Captain Watson, his son, Captain Dowsett, Nellie, and Cyril 
took their places in the boat, and were rowed up the river. 
An exclamation burst from them all as they saw how fast the 
flames had travelled since the previous evening. 

“St. Paul’s is on fire!” Cyril exclaimed. “See! there are 
flames bursting through its roof. I think, Captain Watson, 
if you will put me ashore at the Temple, I will make my way 
to Whitehall, and report myself there. I may be of use.” 

“I will do that,” Captain Watson said. “Then I will row 
back to the ship again. We must leave a couple of hands on 
board, in case some of these burning flakes should set any¬ 
thing alight. We will land with the rest, and do what we can 
to help these poor women and children.” 

“ I will stay on board and take command, if you like, Wat¬ 
son,” Captain Dave said. “You ought to have some one 
there, and I have not recovered from yesterday’s work, and 
should be of little use ashore.” 

“Very well, f)owsett. That will certainly be best; but I 
think it will be prudent, before we leave, to run out a kedge 
with forty or fifty fathoms of cable towards the middle of the 
stream, and then veer out the cable on her anchor so as to let 
her ride thirty fathoms or so farther out. We left six men 

383 





WHEN LONDON BURNED 


384 


sluicing her side and deck, but it certainly would be prudent 
to get her out a bit farther. Even here, the heat is as much 
as we can stand.” 

As soon as Cyril had landed, he hurried up into Fleet Street. 
He had just reached Temple Bar when he saw a party of horse¬ 
men making their way through the carts. A hearty cheer 
greeted them from the crowd, who hoped that the presence of 
the King— for it was Charles who rode in front — was a sign 
that vigorous steps were about to be taken to check the prog¬ 
ress of the flames. Beside the King rode the Duke of Albe¬ 
marle, and following were a number of other gentlemen and 
officers. Cyril made his way through the crowd to the side of 
the Duke’s horse. 

“Can I be of any possible use, my Lord Duke?” he asked, 
doffing his hat. 

“Ah, Sir Cyril, it is you, is it? I have not seen you since 
you bearded De Ruyter in the Fan Fan . Yes, you can be of 
use. We have five hundred sailors and dockyard men be¬ 
hind; they have just arrived from Chatham, and a thousand 
more have landed below the Bridge to fight the flames on that 
side. Keep by me now, and, when we decide where to set 
to work, I will put you under the orders of Captain Warn- 
cliffe, who has charge of them.” 

When they reached the bottom of Fleet Street, the fire was 
halfway down Ludgate Hill, and it was decided to begin 
operations along the bottom of the Fleet Valley. The dock¬ 
yard men and sailors were brought up, and following them 
were some carts laden with kegs of powder. 

“ Warncliffe,” Lord Albemarle said, as the officer came up 
at the head of them, “ Sir Cyril Shenstone is anxious to help. 
You know him by repute, and you can trust him in any dan¬ 
gerous business. You had better tell off twenty men under 
him. You have only to tell him what you want done, and 
you can rely upon its being done thoroughly.” 

The sailors were soon at work along the line of the Fleet 
Ditch. All carried axes, and with these they chopped down 


AFTER THE FIRE 


385 


the principal beams of the small houses clustered by the 
Ditch, and so weakened them that a small charge of powder 
easily brought them down. In many places they met with 
fierce opposition from the owners, who, still clinging to the 
faint hope that something might occur to stop the progress of 
the fire before it reached their abodes, raised vain protesta¬ 
tions against the destruction of their houses. All day the 
men worked unceasingly, but in vain. Driven by the fierce 
wind, the flames swept down the opposite slope, leapt over 
the space strewn with rubbish and beams, and began to climb 
Fleet Street and Holborn Hill and the dense mass of houses 
between them. 

The fight was renewed higher up. Beer and bread and 
cheese were obtained from the taverns, and served out to the 
workmen, and these kept at their task all night. Towards 
morning the wind had fallen somewhat. The open spaces 
of the Temple favoured the defenders; the houses to east of 
it were blown up, and, late in the afternoon, the progress of 
the flames at this spot was checked. As soon as it was felt 
that there was no longer any fear of its further advance here, 
the exhausted men, who had, for twenty-four hours, laboured, 
half suffocated by the blinding smoke and by the dust made 
by their own work, threw themselves down on the grass of the 
Temple Gardens and slept. At midnight they were roused by 
their officers, and proceeded to assist their comrades, who 
had been battling with the flames on the other side of Fleet 
Street. They found that these too had been successful; the 
flames had swept up to Fetter Lane, but the houses on the 
west side had been demolished, and although, at one or two 
points, the fallen beams caught fire, they were speedily ex¬ 
tinguished. Halfway up Fetter Lane the houses stood on both 
sides uninjured, for a large open space round St. Andrew’s, 
Holborn, had aided the defenders in their efforts to check the 
flames. North of Holborn the fire had spread but little, and 
that only among the poorer houses in Fleet Valley. 

Ascending the hill, they found that, while the flames had 

2 £ 


386 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


overleapt the City wall from Ludgate to Newgate in its prog¬ 
ress west, the wall had proved an effective barrier from the 
sharp corner behind Christchurch up to Aldersgate and thence 
up to Cripplegate, which was the farthest limit reached by the 
fire to the north. To the east, the City had fared better. By 
the river, indeed, the destruction was complete as far as the 
Tower. Mark Lane, however, stood, and north of this the 
line of destruction swept westward to Leaden Hall, a massive 
structure at the entrance to the street that took its name from 
it, and proved a bulwark against the flames. From this point, 
the line of devastated ground swept round by the eastern end 
of Throgmorton Street to the northern end of Basinghall Street. 

Cyril remained with the sailors for two days longer, during 
which time they were kept at work beating out the embers of 
the fire. In this they were aided by a heavy fall of rain, 
which put an end to all fear of the flames springing up again. 

“There can be no need for you to remain longer with us, 
Sir Cyril,” Captain Warncliffe said, at the end of the second 
day. “I shall have pleasure in reporting to the Duke of 
Albemarle the good services that you have rendered. Doubt¬ 
less we shall remain on duty here for some time, for we may 
have, for aught I know, to aid in the clearing away of some 
of the ruins; but, at any rate, there can be no occasion for 
you to stay longer with us.” 

Cyril afterwards learnt that the sailors and dockyard men 
were, on the following day, sent back to Chatham. The fire 
had rendered so great a number of men homeless and without 
means of subsistence, that there was an abundant force on 
hand for the clearing away of ruins. Great numbers were 
employed by the authorities, while many of the merchants 
and traders engaged parties to clear away the ruins of their 
dwellings, in order to get at the cellars below, in which they 
had, as soon as the danger from fire was perceived, stowed 
away the main bulk of their goods. As soon as he was re¬ 
leased from duty, Cyril made his way to the Tower, and, hir¬ 
ing a boat, was rowed to the Good Venture. 


AFTER THE FIRE 


387 


The shipping presented a singular appearance, their sides 
being blistered, and in many places completely stripped of 
their paint, while in some cases the spars were scorched, and 
the sails burnt away. There was lively satisfaction at his 
appearance, as he stepped on to the deck of the Good Ven¬ 
ture , for, until he did so, he had been unrecognised, so be¬ 
grimed with smoke and dust was he. 

“We have been wondering about you,” Captain Dave said, 
as he shook him by the hand, “ but I can scarce say we had 
become uneasy. We learnt that a large body of seamen and 
others were at work blowing up houses, and as you had gone 
to offer your services we doubted not that you were employed 
with them. Truly you must have been having a rough time 
of it, for not only are you dirtier than any scavenger, but you 
look utterly worn out and fatigued.” 

“It was up-hill work the first twenty-four hours, for we 
worked unceasingly, and worked hard, too, I can assure you, 
and that well-nigh smothered with smoke and dust. Since 
then, our work has been more easy, but no less dirty. In the 
three days I have not had twelve hours’ sleep altogether.” 

“I will get a tub of hot water placed in your cabin,” 
Captain Watson said, “and should advise you, when you 
get out from it, to turn into your bunk at once. No one 
shall go near you in the morning until you wake of your 
own accord.” 

Cyril was, however, down to breakfast. 

“Now tell us all about the fire,” Nellie said, when they had 
finished the meal. 

“I have nothing to tell you, for I know nothing,” Cyril 
replied. “Our work was simply pulling down and blowing 
up houses. I had scarce time so much as to look at the fire. 
However, as I have since been working all round its course, 
I can tell you exactly how far it spread.” 

When he brought his story to a conclusion, he said,— 

“And now, Captain Dave, what are you thinking of doing? ” 

“ In the first place, I am going ashore to look at the old 


388 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


house. As soon as I can get men, I shall clear the ground, 
and begin to rebuild it. I have enough laid by to start me 
again. I should be like a fish out of water with nothing to 
see to. I have the most valuable part of my stock still on 
hand here on deck, and if the cellar has proved staunch my 
loss in goods will be small indeed, for the anchors and chains 
in the yard will have suffered no damage. But even if the 
cellar has caved in, and its contents are destroyed, and if, 
when I have rebuilt my house, I find I have not enough left 
to replenish my stock, I am sure that I can get credit from 
the rope- and sail-makers, and iron-masters with whom I 
deal.” 

“Do not trouble yourself about that, Captain Dave,” Cyril 
said. “You came to my help last time, and it will be my 
turn this time. I am sure that I shall have no difficulty in 
getting any monies that may be required from Mr. Golds¬ 
worthy, and there is nothing that will give me more pleasure 
than to see you established again in the place that was the 
first where I ever felt I had a home.” 

“I hope that it will not be needed, lad,” Captain Dave 
said, shaking his hand warmly, “but if it should, I will not 
hesitate to accept your offer in the spirit in which it is made, 
and thus add one more to the obligations that I am under to 
you.” 

Cyril went ashore with Captain Dave and John Wilkes. 
The wall of the yard was, of course, uninjured, but the gate 
was burnt down. The store-house, which was of wood, had 
entirely disappeared, and the back wall of the house had fallen 
over it and the yard. The entrance to the cellar, therefore, 
could not be seen, and, as yet, the heat from the fallen bricks 
was too great to attempt to clear them away to get at it. 

That night, however, it rained heavily, and in the morning 
Captain Watson took a party of sailors ashore, and these suc¬ 
ceeded in clearing away the rubbish sufficiently to get to the 
entrance of the cellar. The door was covered by an iron 
plate, and although the wood behind this was charred it had 


AFTER THE FIRE 


389 


not caught fire, and on getting it open it was found that the 
contents of the cellar were uninjured. 

In order to prevent marauders from getting at it before 
preparations could be made for rebuilding, the rubbish was 
again thrown in so as to completely conceal the entrance. 
On returning on board there was a consultation on the future, 
held in the cabin. Captain Dave at once said that he and 
John Wilkes must remain in town to make arrangements for 
the rebuilding and to watch the performance of the work. 
Cyril warmly pressed Mrs. Dowsett and Nellie to come down 
with him to Norfolk until the house was ready to receive 
them, but both were in favour of remaining in London, and 
it was settled that, next day, they should go down to Stepney, 
hire a house and store-room there, and remove thither their 
goods on board the ship, and the contents of the cellar. 

There was some little difficulty in getting a house, as so 
many were seeking for lodgings, but at last they came upon a 
widow who was willing to let a house, upon the proviso that 
she was allowed to retain one room for her own occupation. 
This being settled, Cyril that evening returned to his lodging, 
and the next day rode down to Norfolk. There he remained 
until the middle of May, when he received a letter from Cap¬ 
tain Dave, saying that his house was finished, and that they 
should move into it in a fortnight, and that they all earnestly 
hoped he would be present. As he had already been thinking 
of going up to London for a time, he decided to accept the 
invitation. 

By this time he had made the acquaintance of all the sur¬ 
rounding gentry, and felt perfectly at home at Upmead. He 
rode frequently into Norwich, and, whenever he did so, paid 
a visit to Mr. Harvey, whose wife had died in January, never 
having completely recovered from the shock that she had 
received in London. Mr. Harvey himself had aged much; 
he still took a great interest in the welfare of the tenants of 
Upmead, and in Cyril’s proposals for the improvement of 
their homes, and was pleased to see how earnestly he had 


390 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


taken up the duties of his new life. He spoke occasionally 
of his son, of whose death he felt convinced. 

“I have never been able to obtain any news of him,” he 
often said, “and assuredly I should have heard of him had he 
been alive. 

“It would ease my mind to know the truth,” he said, one 
day. “ It troubles me to think that, if alive, he is assuredly 
pursuing evil courses, and that he will probably end his days 
on a gallows. That he will repent, and turn to better courses, 
I have now no hope whatever. Unless he be living by 
roguery, he would, long ere this, have written, professing 
repentance, even if he did not feel it, and begging for assist¬ 
ance. It troubles me much that I can find out nothing for 
certain of him.” 

“ Would it be a relief to you to know surely that he was 
dead?” Cyril asked. 

“ I would rather know that he was dead than feel, as I do, 
that if alive, he is going on sinning. One can mourn for the 
dead as David mourned for Absalom, and trust that their sins 
may be forgiven them; but, uncertain as I am of his death, I 
cannot so mourn, since it may be that he still lives.” 

“Then, sir, I am in a position to set your mind at rest. I 
have known for a long time that he died of the Plague, but I 
have kept it from you, thinking that it was best you should 
still think that he might be living. He fell dead beside me 
on the very day that I sickened of the Plague, and, indeed, 
it was from him that I took it.” 

Mr. Harvey remained silent for a minute or two. 

“’Tis better so,” he said solemnly. “The sins of youth 
may be forgiven, but, had he lived, his whole course might 
have been wicked. How know you that it was he who gave 
you the Plague?” 

“I met him in the street. He was tottering in his walk, 
and, as he came up, he stumbled, and grasped me to save 
himself. I held him for a moment, and then he slipped from 
my arms and fell on the pavement, and died.” 


AFTER THE FIRE 


391 


Mr. Harvey looked keenly at Cyril, and was about to ask a 
question, but checked himself. 

“He is dead,” he said. “God rest his soul, and forgive 
him his sins! Henceforth I shall strive to forget that he ever 
lived to manhood, and seek to remember him as he was when 
a child.” 

Then he held out his hand to Cyril, to signify that he would 
fain be alone. 

On arriving in London, Cyril took up his abode at his 
former lodgings, and the next day at twelve o’clock, the hour 
appointed in a letter he found awaiting him on his arrival, 
he arrived in Tower Street, having ridden through the City. 
An army of workmen, who had come up from all parts of the 
country, were engaged in rebuilding the town. In the main 
thoroughfares many of the houses were already finished, and 
the shops re-opened. In other parts less progress had been 
made, as the traders were naturally most anxious to resume 
their business, and most able to pay for speed. 

Captain Dave’s was one of the first houses completed in 
Tower Street, but there were many others far advanced in 
progress. The front differed materially from that of the old 
house, in which each story had projected beyond the one below 
it. Inside, however, there was but little change in its appear¬ 
ance, except that the rooms were somewhat more lofty, and 
that there were no heavy beams across the ceilings. Captain 
Dave and his family had moved in that morning. 

“It does not look quite like the old place,” Mrs. Dowsett 
said, after the first greetings. 

“Not quite,” Cyril agreed. “The new furniture, of course, 
gives it a different appearance as yet; but one will soon get 
accustomed to that, and you will quickly make it home-like 
again. I see you have the bits of furniture you saved in their 
old corners.” 

“Yes; and it will make a great difference when they get 
all my curiosities up in their places again,” Captain Dave 
put in. “ We pulled them down anyhow, and some of 


302 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


them will want glueing up a bit. And so your fighting is over, 
Cyril?” 

“Yes, it looks like it. The Dutch have evidently had 
enough of it. They asked for peace, and as both parties con¬ 
sented to the King of Sweden being mediator, and our repre¬ 
sentatives and those of Holland are now settling affairs at 
Breda, peace may be considered as finally settled. We have 
only two small squadrons now afloat; the rest are all snugly 
laid up. I trust that there is no chance of another war be¬ 
tween the two nations for years to come.” 

“I hope not, Cyril. But De Witte is a crafty knave, and 
is ever in close alliance with Louis. Were it not for French 
influence the Prince of Orange would soon oust him from the 
head of affairs.” 

“ I should think he would not have any power for mischief 
in the future,” Cyril said. “It was he who brought on the 
last war, and, although it has cost us much, it has cost the 
Dutch very much more, an4 the loss of her commerce has 
well-nigh brought Holland to ruin. Besides, the last victory 
we won must have lowered their national pride greatly.” 

“You have not heard the reports that are about, then?” 

“No, I have heard no news whatever. It takes a long time 
for it to travel down to Norwich, and I have seen no one 
since I came up to town last night.” 

“Well, there is a report that a Dutch Fleet of eighty sail has 
put to sea. It may be that ’tis but bravado to show that, 
though they have begged for peace, ’tis not because they are 
in no condition to fight. I know not how this may be, but 
it is certain that for the last three days the Naval people have 
been very busy, and that powder is being sent down to Chat¬ 
ham. As for the Fleet, small as it is, it is doubtful whether 
it would fight, for the men are in a veritable state of mutiny, 
having received no pay for many months. Moreover, several 
ships were but yesterday bought by Government, for what 
purpose it is not known, but it is conjectured they are meant 
for fire-ships.” 


AFTER THE FIRE 


393 




“I cannot but think that it is, as you say, a mere piece of 
bravado on the part of the Dutch, Captain Dave. They could 
never be so treacherous as to attack us when peace is well-nigh 
concluded, but, hurt as their pride must be by the defeat we 
gave them, it is not unnatural they should wish to show that 
they can still put a brave fleet on the seas, and are not driven 
to make peace because they could not, if need be, continue 
the war.” 

“ And now I have a piece of news for you. We are going 
to have a wedding here before long.” 

“I am right glad to hear it,” Cyril said heartily. “And 
who is the happy man, Nellie?” he asked, turning towards 
where she had been standing the moment before. But Nellie 
had fled the moment her father had opened his lips. 

“It is Frank Watson,” her father said. “A right good lad; 
and her mother and I are well pleased with her choice.” 

“ I thought that he was very attentive the few days we were 
on board his father’s ship,” Cyril said. “I am not surprised 
to hear the news.” 

“They have been two voyages since then, and while the 
Good Venture was in the Pool, Master Frank spent most of 
his time down at Stepney, and it was settled a fortnight since. 
My old friend Watson is as pleased as I am. And the best 
part of the business is that Frank is going to give up the sea 
and become my partner. His father owns the Good Venture , 
and, being a careful man, has laid by a round sum, and he 
settled to give him fifteen hundred pounds, which he will put 
into the business.” 

“That is a capital plan, Captain Dave. It will be an excel¬ 
lent thing for you to have so young and active a partner.” 

“Watson has bought the house down at Stepney that we 
have been living in, and Frank and Nellie are going to settle 
there, and Watson will make it his headquarters when his ship 
is in port, and will, I have no doubt, take up his moorings 
there, when he gives up the sea. The wedding is to be in a 
fortnight’s time, for Watson has set his heart on seeing them 


394 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


spliced before he sails again, and I see no reason for delay. 
You must come to the wedding, of course, Cyril. Indeed, I 
don’t think Nellie would consent to be married if you were 
not there. The girl has often spoken of you lately. You see, 
now that she really knows what love is, and has a quiet, happy 
life to look forward to, she feels more than ever the service 
you did her, and the escape she had. She told the whole 
story to Frank before she said yes, when he asked her to be 
his wife, and, of course, he liked her no less for it, though I 
think it would go hard with that fellow if he ever met him.” 

“The fellow died of the Plague, Captain Dave. His last 
action was to try and revenge himself on me by giving me 
the infection, for, meeting me in the streets, he threw his arms 
round me and exclaimed, ‘ I have given you the Plague! ’ 
They were the last words he ever spoke, for he gave a hideous 
laugh, and then dropped down dead. However, he spoke 
truly, for that night I sickened of it.” 

“Then your kindness to Nellie well-nigh cost you your 
life,” Mrs. Dowsett said, laying her hand on his shoulder, 
while the tears stood in her eyes. “And you never told us 
this before! ” 

“There was nothing to tell,” Cyril replied. “If I had not 
caught it from him, I should have, doubtless, taken it from 
someone else, for I was constantly in the way of it, and could 
hardly have hoped to escape an attack. Now, Captain Dave, 
let us go downstairs, and see the store.” 

“John Wilkes and the two boys are at work there,” the Cap¬ 
tain said, as he went downstairs, “and we open our doors to¬ 
morrow. I have hurried on the house as fast as possible, and 
as no others in my business have yet opened, I look to do a 
thriving trade at once. Watson will send all his friends here, 
and as there is scarce a captain who goes in or out of port 
but knows Frank, I consider that our new partner will greatly 
extend the business.” 

Captain Watson and Frank came in at supper-time, and, 
after spending a pleasant evening, Cyril returned to his lodg- 


AFTER THE FIRE 


395 


ings in the Strand. The next day he was walking near White¬ 
hall when a carriage dashed out at full speed, and, as it came 
along, he caught sight of the Duke of Albemarle, who looked 
in a state of strange confusion. His wig was awry, his coat 
was off, and his face was flushed and excited. As his eye fell 
on Cyril, he shouted out to the postillions to stop. As they 
pulled up, he shouted,— 

“Jump in, Sir Cyril! Jump in, for your life.” 

Astonished at this address, Cyril ran to the door, opened 
it, and jumped in, and the Duke shouted to the postillions 
to go on. 

“What do you think, sir? — what do you think?” roared 
the Duke. “Those treacherous scoundrels, the Dutch, have 
appeared with a great Fleet of seventy men-of-war, besides 
fire-ships, off Sheerness, this morning at daybreak, and have 
taken the place, and Chatham lies open to them. We have 
been bamboozled and tricked. While the villains were pre¬ 
tending they were all for peace, they have been secretly fitting 
out, and there they are at Sheerness. A mounted messenger 
brought in the news, but ten minutes ago.” 

“Have they taken Sheerness, sir?” 

“Yes; there were but six guns mounted on the fort, and no 
preparations made. The ships that were there did nothing. 
The rascals are in mutiny — and small wonder, when they can 
get no pay, the money voted for them being wasted by the 
Court. It is enough to drive one wild with vexation, and, 
had I my will, there are a dozen men, whose names are the 
foremost in the country, whom I would hang up with my own 
hands. The wind is from the east, and if they go straight up 
the Medway they may be there this afternoon, and have the 
whole of our ships at their mercy. It is enough to make 
Blake turn in his grave that such an indignity should be 
offered us, though it be but the outcome of treachery on the 
part of the Dutch, and of gross negligence on ours. But if 
they give us a day or two to prepare, we will, at least, give 
them something to do before they can carry out their design, 


396 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


and, if one could but rely on the sailors, we might even beat 
them off; but it is doubtful whether the knaves will fight. 
The forts are unfinished, though the money was voted for them 
three years since. And all this is not the worst of it, for, 
after they have taken Chatham, there is naught to prevent 
their coming up to London. We have had plague and we 
have had fire, and to be bombarded by the Dutchmen would 
be the crowning blow, and it would be like to bring about 
another revolution in England.” 

They posted down to Chatham as fast as the horses could 
gallop. The instant the news had arrived, the Duke had 
sent off a man, on horseback, to order horses to be in readi¬ 
ness to change at each posting station. Not a minute, there¬ 
fore, was lost. In a little over two hours from the time of 
leaving Whitehall, they drove into the dockyard. 

“Where is Sir Edward Spragge?” the Duke shouted, as he 
leapt from the carriage. 

“He has gone down to the new forts, your Grace,” an 
officer replied. 

“Have a gig prepared at once, without the loss of a 
moment,” the Duke said. “What is being done?” he asked 
another officer, as the first ran off. 

“ Sir Edward has taken four frigates down to the narrow part 
of the river, sir, and preparations have been made for placing 
a great chain there. Several of the ships are being towed out 
into the river, and are to be sunk in the passage.” 

“Any news of the Dutch having left Sheerness?” 

“No, sir; a shallop rowed up at noon, but was chased back 
again by one of our pinnaces.” 

“ That is better than I had hoped. Come, come, we shall 
make a fight for it yet,” and he strode away towards the 
landing. 

“Shall I accompany you, sir?” Cyril asked. 

“Yes. There is nothing for you to do until we see exactly 
how things stand. I shall use you as my staff officer — that 
is, if you are willing, Sir Cyril. I have carried you off with- 


AFTER THE FIRE 


397 


out asking whether you consented or no; but, knowing your 
spirit and quickness, I felt sure you would be of use.” 

“ I am at your service altogether,” Cyril said, “and am glad 
indeed that your Grace encountered me, for I should have 
been truly sorry to have been idle at such a time.” 

An eight-oared gig was already at the stairs, and they were 
rowed rapidly down the river. They stopped at Upnor Cas¬ 
tle, and found that Major Scott, who was in command there, 
was hard at work mounting cannon and putting the place in a 
posture of defence. 

“You will have more men from London by to-morrow night, 
at the latest,” the Duke said, “and powder and shot in abun¬ 
dance was sent off yesterday. We passed a train on our way 
down, and I told them to push on with all speed. As the 
Dutch have not moved yet, they cannot be here until the 
afternoon of to-morrow, and, like enough, will not attack until 
next day, for they must come slowly, or they will lose some of 
their ships on the sands. We will try to get up a battery 
opposite, so as to aid you with a cross fire. I am going 
down to see Sir Edward Spragge now.” 

Taking their places in the boat again, they rowed round the 
horseshoe curve down to Gillingham, and then along to the 
spot where the frigates were moored. At the sharp bend 
lower down here the Duke found the Admiral, and they held 
a long consultation together. It was agreed that the chain 
should be placed somewhat higher up, where a lightly-armed 
battery on either side would afford some assistance, that be¬ 
hind the chain the three ships, the Matthias , the Unity , and 
the Charles V., all prizes taken from the Dutch, should be 
moored, and that the Jonathan and Fort of Honmggen — also 
a Dutch prize — should be also posted there. 

Having arranged this, the Duke was rowed back to Chat¬ 
ham, there to see about getting some of the great ships re¬ 
moved from their moorings off Gillingham, up the river. To 
his fury, he found that, of all the eighteen hundred men 
employed in the yard, not more than half a dozen had re- 


398 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


mained at their work, the rest being, like all the townsmen, 
occupied in removing their goods in great haste. Even the 
frigates that were armed had but a third, at most, of their 
crews on board, so many having deserted owing to the back¬ 
wardness of their pay. 

That night, Sir VV. Coventry, Sir W. Penn, Lord Brounker, 
and other officers and officials of the Admiralty, came down 
from London. Some of these, especially Lord Brounker, had 
a hot time of it with the Duke, who rated them roundly for 
the state of things which prevailed, telling the latter that he 
was the main cause of all the misfortunes that might occur, 
owing to his having dismantled and disarmed all the great 
ships. In spite of the efforts of all these officers, but little 
could be done, owing to the want of hands, and to the refusal 
of the dockyard men, and most of the sailors, to do anything. 
A small battery of sandbags was, however, erected opposite 
Upnor, and a few guns placed in position there. 

Several ships were sunk in the channel above Upnor, and a 
few of those lying off Gillingham were towed up. Little help 
was sent down from London, for the efforts of the authorities 
were directed wholly to the defence of the Thames. The 
train-bands were all under arms, fire-ships were being fitted 
out and sent down to Gravesend, and batteries erected there 
and at Tilbury, while several ships were sunk in the channel. 

The Dutch remained at Sheerness from the 7th to the 12th, 
and had it not been for the misconduct of the men, Chatham 
could have been put into a good state for defence. As it was, 
but little could be effected; and when, on the 12th, the Dutch 
Fleet were seen coming up the river, the chances of successful 
resistance were small. 

The fight commenced by a Dutch frigate, commanded by 
Captain Brakell, advancing against the chain. Carried up by 
a strong tide and east wind the ship struck it with such force 
that it at once gave way. The English frigates, but weakly 
manned, could offer but slight resistance, and the Jonathan 
was boarded and captured by Brakell. Following his frigate 


AFTER THE FIRE 


399 


were a host of fire-ships, which at once grappled with the 
defenders. The Matthias , Unity , Charles V., and Fort of 
Honinggen were speedily in flames. The light batteries on 
the shore were silenced by the guns of the Fleet, which then 
anchored. The next day, six of their men-of-war, with five 
fire-ships, advanced, exchanged broadsides, as they went 
along, with the Royal Oak and presently engaged Upnor. 
They were received with so hot a fire from the Castle, and 
from the battery opposite, where Sir Edward Spragge had 
stationed himself, that, after-a time, they gave up the design 
of ascending to the dockyard, which at that time occupied 
a position higher up the river than at present. 

The tide was beginning to slacken, and they doubtless 
feared that a number of fire-barges might be launched at them 
did they venture higher up. On the way back, they launched 
a fire-ship at the Royal Oak , which was commanded by Captain 
Douglas. The flames speedily communicated to the ship, 
and the crew took to the boats and rowed ashore. Captain 
Douglas refused to leave his vessel, and perished in the flames. 
The report given by the six men-of-war decided the Dutch 
not to attempt anything further against Chatham. On the 
14th, they set fire to the hulks, the Loyal London and the 
Great Janies, and carried off the hulk of the Royal Charles , 
after the English had twice tried to destroy her by fire. As 
this was the ship in which the Duke of Albemarle, then Gen¬ 
eral Monk, had brought the King over to England from Hol¬ 
land, her capture was considered a special triumph for the 
Dutch and a special dishonour to us. 

The Duke of Albemarle had left Chatham before the Dutch 
came up. As the want of crews prevented his being of any 
use there, and he saw that Sir Edward Spragge would do all 
that was possible in defence of the place, he posted back to 
London, where his presence was urgently required, a com¬ 
plete panic reigning. Crowds assembled at Whitehall, and 
insulted the King and his ministers as the cause of the pres¬ 
ent misfortunes, while at Deptford and Wapping, the sailors 


400 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


and their wives paraded the streets, shouting that the ill- 
treatment of our sailors had brought these things about, and 
so hostile were their manifestations that the officials of the 
Admiralty scarce dared show themselves in the streets. 

Cyril had remained at Chatham, the Duke having recom¬ 
mended him to Sir Edward Spragge, and he, with some other 
gentlemen and a few sailors, had manned the battery opposite 
Upnor. 

The great proportion of the Dutch ships were still at the 
Nore, as it would have been dangerous to have hazarded so 
great a fleet in the narrow water of the Medway. As it was, 
two of their men-of-war, on the way back from Chatham, ran 
ashore, and had to be burnt. They had also six fire-ships 
burnt, and lost over a hundred and fifty men. 

Leaving Admiral Van Ness with part of the Fleet in the 
mouth of the Thames, De Ruyter sailed first for Harwich, 
where he attempted to land with sixteen hundred men in 
boats, supported by the guns of the Fleet. The boats, how¬ 
ever, failed to effect a landing, being beaten off, with con¬ 
siderable loss, by the county Militia; and Ruyter then sailed 
for Portsmouth, where he also failed. He then went west to 
Torbay, where he was likewise repulsed, and then returned 
to the mouth of the Thames. 

On July 23rd, Van Ness, with twenty-five men-of-war, 
sailed up the Hope, where Sir Edward Spragge had now 
hoisted his flag on board a squadron of eighteen ships, of 
whom five were frigates and the rest fire-ships. A sharp 
engagement ensued, but the wind was very light, and the 
English, by towing their fire-ships, managed to lay them 
alongside the Dutch fire-ships, and destroyed twelve of these 
with a loss of only six English ships. But, the wind then 
rising, Sir Edward retired from the Hope to Gravesend, where 
he was protected by the guns at Tilbury. 

The next day, being joined by Sir Joseph Jordan, with a 
few small ships, he took the offensive, and destroyed the last 
fire-ship that the Dutch had left, and compelled the men-of- 


AFTER THE FIRE 


401 


war to retire. Sir Edward followed them with his little 
squadron, and Van Ness, as he retired down the river, was 
met by five frigates and fourteen fire-ships from Harwich. 
These boldly attacked him. Two of the Dutch men-of-war 
narrowly escaped being burnt, another was forced ashore and 
greatly damaged, and the whole of the Dutch Fleet was com¬ 
pelled to bear away. 

While these events had been happening in the Thames, the 
negotiations at Breda had continued, and, just as the Dutch 
retreated, the news came that Peace had been signed. The 
Dutch, on their side, were satisfied with the success with which 
they had closed the war, while England was, at the moment, 
unable to continue it, and the King, seeing the intense un¬ 
popularity that had been excited against him by the affair at 
Chatham, was glad to ratify the Peace, especially as we 
thereby retained possession of several islands we had taken 
in the West Indies from the Dutch, and it was manifest that 
Spain was preparing to join the coalition of France and Hol¬ 
land against us. 

A Peace concluded under such circumstances was naturally 
but a short one. When the war was renewed, three years 
later, the French were in alliance with us, and, after several 
more desperate battles, in which no great advantages were 
gained on either side, the Dutch were so exhausted and im¬ 
poverished by the loss of trade, that a final Peace was arranged 
on terms far more advantageous to us than those secured by 
the Treaty of 1667. The De Wittes, the authors of the pre¬ 
vious wars, had both been killed in, a popular tumult. The 
Prince of Orange was at the head of the State, and the fact 
that France and Spain were both hostile to Holland had re¬ 
awakened the feeling of England in favour of the Protestant 
Republic, and the friendship between the two nations has 
never since been broken. 

Cyril took no part in the last war against the Dutch. He, 
like the majority of the nation, was opposed to it, and, 
although willing to give his life in defence of his country 


402 


WHEN LONDON BURNED 


when attacked, felt it by no means his duty to do so when we 
were aiding the designs of France in crushing a brave enemy. 
Such was in fact the result of the war; for although peace 
was made on even terms, the wars of Holland with England 
and the ruin caused to her trade thereby, inflicted a blow 
upon the Republic from which she never recovered. From 
being the great rival of England, both on the sea and in her 
foreign commerce, her prosperity and power dwindled until 
she ceased altogether to be a factor in European affairs. 

After the Peace of Breda was signed, Cyril went down to 
Upmead, where, for the next four years, he devoted himself 
to the management of his estate. His friendship with Mr. 
Harvey grew closer and warmer, until the latter came to con¬ 
sider him in really the light of a son; and when he died, in 
1681, it was found that his will was unaltered, and that, with 
the exception of legacies to many of his old employes at his 
factory, the whole of his property was left to Cyril. The latter 
received a good offer for the tanyard, and, upon an estate 
next to his own coming shortly afterwards into the market, he 
purchased it, and thus the Upmead estates became as exten¬ 
sive as they had been before the time of his ancestor, who had 
so seriously diminished them during the reign of Elizabeth. 

His friendship with the family of the Earl of Wisbech had 
remained unaltered, and he had every year paid them a visit, 
either at Wisbech or at Sevenoaks. A year after Mr. Har¬ 
vey’s death, he married Dorothy, who had previously refused 
several flattering offers. 

Captain Dave and his wife lived to a good old age. The 
business had largely increased, owing to the energy of their 
son-in-law, who had, with his wife and children, taken up his 
abode in the next house to theirs, which had been bought to 
meet the extension of their business. John Wilkes, at the 
death of Captain Dave, declined Cyril’s pressing offer to 
make his home with him. 

“It would never do, Sir Cyril,” he said. “I should be 
miserable out of the sight of ships, and without a place where 


AFTER THE FIRE 


403 


I could meet seafaring men, and smoke my pipe, and listen 
to their yarns.” 

He therefore remained with Frank Watson, nominally in 
charge of the stores, but doing, in fact, as little as he chose 
until, long past the allotted age of man, he passed quietly 
away. 



THE END 


Norfoooti ^rcss: 

J. S. Cushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith. 
Boston, Mass., tl.S.A. 



G. A. HENTY'S 


POPULAR STORIES FOR BOYS. 

PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS, 

153-157 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW TORE. 

-♦- 


PRESS NOTICES. 


“ Mr. Henty is one of the best story¬ 
tellers for young people.” — Spectator. 

“ Mr. Henty’s books never fail to inter¬ 
est boy readers. Among writers of stories 
of adventure he stands in the very first 
rank.” — A cade my. 

“ Mr. Henty’s books for boys are always 
admirable.” — Birmingham Post. 


“ Mr. Henty’s books are welcome visi¬ 
tors in the home circle.” — London Daily 
News. 

“ The brightest of all the living writers 
whose office it is to enchant the boys.” — 
Christian Leader. 

“ One of our most successful writers of 
historical tales.” — Scotsman. 


NEW VOLUMES FOR 1894. 

In the Heart of the Rockies. A Story of Adventure 

in Colorado. By G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by G. A. 

Hindley. Crown 8vo, beautifully bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

A stirring story of adventure in the early days of the Far West, before the country 
was open to the whites. The hero, Tom Wade, is an English boy who comes to America 
to join an uncle in the West. His life there is marked by a succession of daring adven¬ 
tures with Indians and hair-breadth escapes. Coming safely through all, Tom and his 
uncle finally discover a gold mine and return to England with ample fortunes. 

Wulf the Saxon. A Story of the Norman Conquest. 

By G. A. Henty. With 12 Illustrations by Ralph Peacock. Crown 

8vo, beautifully bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

Mr. Henty is at his best here in uniting historical interest with an exciting story of 
war and danger by land and sea. Through all the thrilling events of the Norman Con¬ 
quest, the young hero bears a prominent part, yielding finally to William the Conqueror, 
by whom he is advanced in power and influence. The book presents a vivid picture of 
this important period of history. 

When London Burned. A Story of the Great Plague 

and Fire in London. By G. A. Henty. Illustrated. Crown 8 vo, 

beautifully bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

Sir Aubrey Shenstone, the father of the hero, has devoted himself and his fortune to 
his monarch, Charles I., only to be left to die in poverty. The hero, almost destitute, 
makes a brave fight against misfortune, winning his way from an humble beginning to 
the position his birth entitles him to fill. He serves in the war against the Dutch, and 
after many exciting experiences during the great fire and plague of London, finally regains 
possession of his father’s estate. It is a story of adventure, intrigue, and heroic achieve¬ 
ment, sure to fascinate young readers. 

I 





2 


G. A. HENRY'S STORIES FOR BOYS. 


PREVIOUS VOLUMES. 

St. Bartholomew’s Eve. A Tale of tne Huguenot 

Wars. Crown 8vo. With 12 full-page Illustrations and a Map. $1.50. 

“ Ex-citing enough to interest even the dullest of readers.” — Boston Transcript. 

Through the Sikh War. A Tale of the Conquest of 

the Punjaub. Crown 8vo. With 12 full-page Illustrations and a Map. 
#1.50. 

“ Not only interesting, but instructive. It is related with great spirit and animation.” 

— Boston Herald. 

A Jacobite Exile. Being the adventures of a Young 

Englishman in the service of Charles XII. of Sweden. Crown 8vo. 
With 8 full-page Illustrations and a Map. #1.50. 

“ Remarkable for its thrilling adventures and its interesting historical pictures.” — 
Herald and Presbyter. 

Beric the Briton. A Story of the Roman Invasion. 

Crown 8vo. With 12 full-page Illustrations. $1.50. 

“ It is a powerful and fascinating romance founded on the Roman invasion of Eng¬ 
land, and abounds with the prowess of valiant warriors and the triumphs of magnanimous 
victors, with war and war-like scenes.” — Boston Post. 

In Greek Waters. A Story of the Grecian War of 

Independence (1821-1827). Crown 8vo. Illustrated. $1.50. 

“ It reproduces the spirit and describes many of the events of the Greek War, so that 
no boy can fail to remember considerable about it which is worth knowing. Moreover, it 
is a stirring narrative, wholesome and stimulating.” — Congregationalist. 

Condemned as a Nihilist. A Story of Escape from 

Siberia. Crown 8vo. Illustrated. $1.50. 

“ Godfrey Bullen, the young hero, suspected of Nihilism, is sent with convicts to 
Siberia. His final escape from prison life, after many exciting adventures, affords mate¬ 
rial for a narrative absorbing and thrilling. The scenes of Siberian prison life give the 
book a peculiar value.”— Christian Advocate. 

Redskin and Cowboy. A Tale of the Western Plains. 

Crown 8vo. Illustrated. $1.50. 

“ This book is said to be founded on the experiences of a young English friend of the 
author, and though it is full of hair-breadth escapes, none of the incidents are improbable. 
It is needless to say that the lad’s adventures are well told.” — San Francisco Chronicle. 

The Dash for Khartoum. A Tale of the Nile Expe¬ 

dition. Crown 8vo. Illustrated. $1.50. 

“ The author has provided a stirring book for young readers, and the episodes of 
battle, capture, rescue, deeds of daring, and other exciting features in which boys delight, 
are in great abundance.” — Boston Saturday Evening Gazette. 

Held Fast for England. A Tale of the Siege of Gib¬ 

raltar. Crown Svo. Illustrated. $1.50. 

“ It is an historical novel, the siege of Gibraltar by the combined forces of France 
and Spain, in the latter part of the eighteenth century, being the foundation on which 
Mr. Henty’s clever fiction rests. It is a story of pluck and adventure on sea and land.” 

— Newark Advertiser. 







G. A. HEN TV'S STORIES FOR BOYS. 


3 


By England’s Aid : or, The Freeing of the Nether¬ 
lands (1585-1604). By G. A. Henty. With 10 full-page Illustrations 
by Alfred Pearse, and 4 Maps. Crown 8vo, beautifully bound, olivine 
edges, $1.50. 

Mr. Henty here gives us *he story of two English lads, who go to Holland in the 
service of Sir Francis Vere. After many adventures by sea and land, one of the lads 
finds himself on board a Spanish ship at the time of the defeat of the Armada, and 
escapes from Spain only to fall into the hands of the Corsairs. He is successful, how¬ 
ever, in getting back to Spain under the protection of a wealthy Spanish merchant, and 
regains his native country after the capture of Cadiz, which finally broke the power of 
Spain in Europe. 

With Lee in Virginia. A Story of the American 

Civil War. By G. A. Henty. With 10 full-page Illustrations by 
Gordon Browne, and 6 Maps. Crown 8vo, beautifully bound, olivine 
edges, #1.50. 

The story of a young Virginian planter, who, after bravely proving his sympathy 
with the slaves of brutal masters, serves under Lee and Jackson through the most 
exciting events of the struggle. He has many escapes, but his courage and readiness 
and the devotion of a black servant and of a runaway slave whom he had assisted, bring 
him safely through all difficulties. 

By Right of Conquest : or, with Cortez in Mexico. 

By G. A. Henty. With 10 full-page Illustrations by W. S. Stacey, 
and 2 Maps. Crown 8vo, beautifully bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

The adventures of an English youth, Roger Hawkshaw, the sole survivor of the good 
ship Swan, which had sailed from a Devon port to challenge the mercantile supremacy 
of the Spaniards in the New World. He is beset by many perils amongst the natives, 
who are disposed at one time to worship and at another to sacrifice him, but is saved by 
his own judgement and strength, and by the devotion of an Aztec princess. 

Bonnie Prince Charlie. A Tale of Fontenoy and 

Culloden. By G. A. Henty. With 12 full-page Illustrations by Gordon 
Browne. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“ Ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of ‘ Quentin Durward.’ The lad’s journey 
across France with his faithful attendant Malcolm, and his hairbreadth escapes from the 
machinations of his father’s enemies, make up as good a narrative of the kind as we have 
ever read.” — Spectator. 

By Pike and Dyke. A Tale of the Rise of the 

Dutch Republic. By G. A. Henty. With 10 full-page Illustrations 
by Maynard Brown, and 4 Maps. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, 
olivine edges, $1.50. 

A story covering the period when the Netherlands revolted against the attempts of 
the Spaniards to force upon them the Catholic religion. Mr. Henty has added a special 
attractiveness for boys in tracing through the historic conflict the adventures of an 
English boy in the household of the ablest man of his age — William the Silent. 

Captain Bayley’s Heir. A Tale of the Gold Fields 

of California. By G. A. Henty. With 12 full-page Illustrations by 
H. M. Paget. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

A frank, manly lad and his cousin, who is of the plausible scheming type, are rivals 
in the heirship of a considerable property. The former falls into a trap laid by the lauer, 
and while under a false accusation of theft foolishly leaves England for America. He 
goes to the Californian gold diggings, and acquires a small fortune, and is at length 
proved innocent of the charge which drove him from home. 



4 


G. A. HENTY'S STORIES FOR BOYS. 


The Lion of St. Mark. A Tale of Venice in the 

Fourteenth Century. By G. A. Henty. With io full-page Illustrations 
by Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges. 

“Everybody should read ‘ The Lion of St. Mark.’ Mr. Henty has never produced 
any story more delightful, more wholesome, or more vivacious. From first to last it 
will be read with keen enjoyment.” — Saturday Review. 

The Lion of the North. A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus 

and the Wars of Religion. By G. A. Henty. With 12 full-page 
Illustrations by John Schonberg. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, 
olivine edges, $1.50. 

“As we might expect from Mr. Henty the tale is a clever and instructive piece of 
history, and as boys may be trusted to read it conscientiously, they can hardly fail to be 
profited as well as pleased.”— The Times. 

For the Temple. A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. 

By G. A. Henty. With 10 full-page Illustrations by S. J. Solomon, 
and a colored Map. Crc.vn 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, 

#1.5°. 

“ Mr. Her.ty’s graphic prose pictures of the hopeless Jewish resistance to Roman 
sway add another leaf to his record of the famous wars of the world.”— Graphic. 

With Clive in India : or, The Beginnings of an 

Empire. By G. A. Henty. With 12 full-page Illustrations by Gordon 
Browne, in black and tint. Crown Svo, handsomely bound, olivine 
edges, #1.50. 

“ He has taken a period of Indian History of the most vital importance, and he has 
embroidered on the historical facts a story which of itself is deeply interesting. Young 
people assuredly will be delighted with the volume.” — Scotsman. 

Through the Fray. A Story of the Luddite Riots. 

By G. A. Henty. With 12 full-page Illustrations by H. M. Paget, in 
black and tint. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, olivine edges, $1.50. 

The story is laid in Yorkshire at the commencement of the present century, when the 
high price of food induced by the war and the introduction of machinery drove the 
working-classes to desperation, and caused them to band themselves in that wide-spread 
organization known as the Luddite Society. 

True to the Old Flag. A Tale of the American War 

of Independence. By G. A. Henty. With 12 full-page Illustrations 
by Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, 
#1.50. 

“ It does justice to the pluck and determination of the British soldiers during the 
unfortunate struggle against American emancipation. The son of an American loyalist, 
who remains true to our flag, falls among the hostile redskins in that very Huron 
country which has been endeared to us by the exploits of Hawk-eye and Chiagachgook.*' 
— The Times. 




G. A. HENTY'S STORIES FOR BOYS. 


5 


The Young Carthaginian. A Story of the Times of 

Hannibal. By G. A. Henty. With 12 full-page Illustrations by C. J. 
Staniland, R.I. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

Boys reading the history of the Punic Wars have seldom a keen appreciation of the 
merits of the contest. To let them know more about this momentous struggle, Mr. 
Henty has written this story, which not only gives in graphic style a brilliant description 
of a most interesting period of history, but is a tale of exciting adventure sure to interest 
the reader. 

With Wolfe in Canada: or, The Winning of a Con¬ 
tinent. By G. A. Henty. With 12 full-page Illustrations by Gordon 
Browne. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“ It is not only a lesson in history as instructively as it is graphically told, but also a 
deeply interesting and often thrilling tale of adventure and peril by flood and field.” — 
Illustrated London News. 

In Freedom’s Cause. A Story of Wallace and Bruce. 

By G. A. Henty. With 12 full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne, 
in black and tint. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“Mr. Henty has broken new ground as aft historical novelist. His tale is full of 
stirring action, and will commend itself to boys.” — Athenceunt. 

Under Drake’s Flag. A Tale of the Spanish Main. 

By G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Pictures by Gordon Browne, in 
black and tint. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

A story of the days when England and Spain struggled for the supremacy of the sea. 
The heroes sail as lads with Drake in the expedition in which the Pacific Ocean was first 
seen by an Englishman from a tree-top on the Isthmus of Panama, and in his great 
voyage of circumnavigation. 

One of the 28th. A Tale of Waterloo. By G. A. 

Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by W. H. Overend, and 2 
Maps. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“ ‘ One of the 28th' contains one of the best descriptions of the various battles which 
raged round Waterloo, which it has ever been our fate to read.” — Daily Telegraph. 

The Cat of Bubastes. A Story of Ancient Egypt. 

By G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by J. R. Weguelin. 
Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“ The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat to the perilous 
exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skilfully constructed and full of exciting 
adventures. It is admirably illustrated.” — Saturday Review. 

In the Reign of Terror. The Adventures of a West¬ 
minster Boy. By G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by 
J. Schonberg. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“ The interest of this story of the ‘ Reign of Terror ’ lies in the way in which the diffi¬ 
culties and perils Harry has to encounter bring out the heroic and steadfast qualities of a 
brave nature. Again and again the last extremity seems to have been reached, but his un¬ 
failing courage triumphs over all. It is an admirable boy’s book.” — Birmingham Post. 




6 


G. A. HENTY’S STORIES FOR BOYS. 


St. George for England, A Tale of Cressy and 

Poitiers. By G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Gordon 
Browne, in black and tint. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, $1.50. 

“ Mr. Henty has developed for himself a type of historical novel for boys which bids 
fair to supplement on their behalf, the historical labors of Sir Walter Scott in the land 
of fiction.” — Standard. 

Maori and Settler. A Story of the New Zealand War. 

By G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Alfred Pearse. 
Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1 .50. 

The Renshaws emigrate to New Zealand during the period of the war with the 
natives. During the eventful voyage out, and in the subsequent adventures among the 
Maoris, there are many breathless moments in which the odds 'eem hopelessly against 
the party, but they succeed in establishing themselves happily in one of the pleasantest 
of the New Zealand valleys. 

A Final Reckoning. A Tale of Bush Life in Aus¬ 
tralia. By G. A. Hen it. With 8 full-page Illustrations by W. B. 
Wollen. Crown Svo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, £1.50. 

The hero, a young English lad, after rather a stormy boyhood, emigrates to Australia, 
and gets employment as an officer in the mounted police. A few years of active work on 
the frontier, where he has many a brush with both natives and bush-rangers, gain him 
promotion to a captaincy, and he eventually settles down to the peaceful life of a 
squatter. 

The Bravest of the Brave : or, With Peterborough in 

Spain. By G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by A. M. 
Paget. Crown Svo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

There are few great leaders whose lives have so completely fallen into oblivion as 
that of the Earl of Peterborough. This is largely due to the fact that it was over- 
shadowed by the glory of Marlborough. His career as General extended over little more 
than a year, and yet, in that time, he showed a genius for warfare which has never been 
surpassed. 

For Name and Fame : or, Through Afghan Passes. By 

G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
Crown Svo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“ Here we have not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms of excite¬ 
ment of a campaign, but an instructive history of a recent war, and, what is still more 
useful, an account of a territory and its inhabitants which must for a long time possess a 
supreme interest for Englishmen, as being the key to our Indian Empire .”—Glasgow 
Herald. 

Orange and Green : A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick. 

By G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
Crown Svo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

An extremely spirited story, based on the struggle in Ireland, rendered memorable 
by the defence of ’Derry and the siege of Limerick.” — Saturday Review. 



G. A. HENTY'S STORIES FOR BOYS. 


7 


The Dragon and the Raven: or, The Days of Kino- 

Alfred. Ky G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by C. j. 
Staniland, R.I. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“ Treated in a manner most attractive to the boyish reader.” — Athenaum. 

Facing Death: or, The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A 

Tale of the Coal Mines. By G. A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustra¬ 
tions by Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine 
edges, $1.50. 

The tale is well written and well illustrated, and there is much reality in the 
characters.” — A thencenm. 

By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War. By G. 

A. Henty. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. Crown 
8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, 31-50. 

The author has woven, in. a tale of thrilling interest, all the details of the Ashanti 
campaign, of which he was himself a witness. His hero, after many exciting adventures 
in the interior, finds himself at Coomassie just before the outbreak of the war, is detained 
a prisoner by the ki-ng, is sent down with the army which invaded the British Protecto¬ 
rate, escapes, and accompanies the English expedition on their march to Coomassie. 

A Chapter of Adventures : or, Through the Bombard¬ 
ment of Alexandria. By G. A. Henty. With 6 full page Illustrations 
by W. H. Overend. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, $1.25. 

A coast fishing lad, by an act of heroism, secures the interest of a ship-owner, who 
places him as an apprentice on board one of his ships. In company with two of his 
fellow-apprentices he is left behind, at Alexandria, in the hands of the revolted Egyptian 
troops, and is present through the bombardment and the scenes of riot and bloodshed 
which accompanied it. They ultimately effect their escape, and in the subsequent terri¬ 
ble voyage their ship is wrecked, and only the hero and a friend are saved. 

Sturdy and Strong: or, How George Andrews made 

His Way. By G. A. Henty. With 4 full-page Illustrations. Crown 
8vo, handsomely bound, $1.00. 

“ The history of a hero of everyday life, whose love of truth, clothing of modesty, and 
innate pluck, carry him, naturally, from poverty to affluence. George Andrews is an 
example of character with nothing to cavil at, and stands as a good instance of chivalry 
in domestic life.” — The Empire. 

Tales of Daring and Danger. By G. A. Henty. 

With 2 full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, 75 cents. 

“ * White-faced Dick’ is a sketch worthy of Bret Harte at his best. Just the sort of 
tale to read aloud by the fireside on a winter’s night.” — Practical Teacher. 

Yarns on the Beach. By G. A. Henty. With 2 

full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, 75 cents. 

“ This little book should find special favor among boys. The yarns are spun by old 
sailors, and are admirably calculated to foster a manly spirit.” — Echo. 







8 


POPULAR BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE . 


NEW VOLUMES JUST PUBLISHED 

UNIFORM WITH THE HENTY BOOKS. 

Westward with Columbus. By Gordon Stables, 

C.M., M.D., R.N., author of “’Twixt School and College,” etc. 
With 8 full-page Illustrations by Alfred Pearse. Crown 8vo, 
handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“This is a delightfully interesting and breezy story of the days of Columbus. With¬ 
out being absolutely a life of the great hero, it is truthfully historical, and bristling 
with adventure from beginning to end. There is not a dull page in it. Although the 
young hero sails with Columbus, and participates in all his adventures, he is by birth 
and parentage an English lad, so that much of the interest centres in England and is 
descriptive of the life led in those times in that country.” 

The Wreck of the Golden Fleece: The Story of a 

North Sea Fisher-boy. By Robert Leighton. With 8 full-page 
Illustrations by Frank Brangwyn. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, 
olivine edges, $1.50. 

The scene of this story is on the Suffolk Coast of England, at the period of the French 
Revolution. There are descriptions of North Sea fishing and the wild life of the 
fisher-fo'k—an exciting rescue from shipwreck, and later on in the story, a voyage in 
a plague-stricken convict ship, all narrated by the hero, a Lowestoft fisher lad. 

The Thirsty Sword. A Story of the Norse Invasion of 
Scotland (1262-65). By Robert Leighton. With 8 Illustrations 
and a Map. Crown 8vo, $1.50. (Copyrighted.) 

In this story of “The Thirsty Sword " and of the vengeance which it accomplishes, 
there is much found of the simple directness and tragic strength of the old Scandinavian 
Sagas. The period of the story is the heroic one which appeals so strongly to the 
youthful imagination, and the historical picture of the times is vivid and truthful. 
The tale is spiritedly and fully illustrated. 

The Pilots of Pomona: A Story of the Orkney Isiands. 
By Robert Leighton. With 8 full-page Illustrations by John 
Leighton, and a Map. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine 
edges, $1.50. (Copyrighted.) 

“ The scene of this story is laid in the Orkney Islands. Halcro Ericson, the hero, 
happens upon many exciting adventures, through which he carries himself with quiet 
courage. The finding of treasure-trove, the cliff-climbing adventures, the fishing 
expedition, the escape from drowning, the lonely Arctic voyage, the experiences with 
smugglers, and the trial for murder on a false accusation, all serve to show the spirit 
of the lad, while they carry forward a breathless narrative. 


CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS. 

153-157 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK. 




POPULAR BOOKS FOR YOU KG PEOPLE. 


9 


Brownsmith’s Boy. By George Manville Fenn. 

With 12 full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne, in black and tint. 
Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.00. 

“ ‘ Brownsmith’s Boy' must rank among the few undeniably good boys’ books. He 
will be a very dull boy indeed who lays it down without wishing that it had gone on for 
at least ioo pages more.” — North British Mail. 

Quicksilver : or, A Boy With No Skid to His Wheel. 

By George Manville FrNN. With 10 full-page Illustrations by 
Frank Dadd. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“Mr. Fenn possesses the true secret of producing real and serviceable boys’books. 
Every word he writes is informed with full knowledge and, even more important, quick 
sympathy with all the phases of youthful life. In * Quicksilver ’ he displays these quali¬ 
ties in a high degree.”— Dundee Advertiser. 

Devon Boys. A Tale of the North Shore. By 

George Manville Fenn. With 12 full-page Illustrations by Gordon 
Browne. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“ An admirable story, as remarkable for the individuality of its young heroes as for 
the excellent descriptions of coast scenery and life in North Devon. It is one of the 
best books we have seen this season.” — Athenceum. 

The Golden Magnet. A Tale of the Land of the Incas. 

By G. Manville Fenn. With 12 full-page Pictures by Gordon 
Browne. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

The tale of a romantic lad, who leaves home to seek his fortune in South America by 
endeavoring to discover some of that treasure which legends declare was ages ago hidden 
by the Peruvian rulers and priests, to preserve it from the Spanish invaders. 

In the King’s Name : or, The Cruise of the Kestrel. 

By G. Manville Fen^j. Illustrated by 12 full-page Pictures by Gordon 
Browne. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“ In the King’s Name ” is a spirited story of the Jacobite times, concerning the adven¬ 
tures of a young naval officer in the preventive service off the coast of Sussex. 

Menhardoc. A Story of Cornish Nets and Mines. 

By G. Manville Fenn. With 8 full-page Illustrations by C. J. Stani- 
land, R.I. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

The scene of this story is laid among the granite piles and tors of Cornwall. Adven¬ 
tures are pretty plentiful, but the story has for its strong base the development of charac¬ 
ter of the three boys. 

Bunyip Land. The Story of a Wild Journey in New 

Guinea. By G. Manville Fenn. With 12 full-page Illustrations by 
Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“ Mr. Fenn deserves the thanks of everybody for * Bunyip Land,’ and we venture to 
promise that a quiet week may be reckoned on whilst the youngsters have such fascinat¬ 
ing literature provided for them.” — Spectator 



10 


POPULAR BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


Patience Wins : or, War in the Works. By G. Man- 

ville Fenn. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. 
Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.00. 

“ An excellent story, the interest being sustained from first to last. This is, both in 
its intention and the way the story is told, one of the best books of its kind which has 
come before us this year.” — Saturday Reviezv. 

Nat the Naturalist. A Boy’s Adventures in the 

Eastern Seas. By G. Manville Fenn. Illustrated by 8 full-page 
Pictures by Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine 
edges, $1.50. 

“Mr. Fenn has here hit upon a capital idea. This is among the best of the boys’ 
books of the season.” — Times. 

“ We can conceive of no more attractive present for a young naturalist.” — Land and 
Water. 

Mother Carey’s Chicken. Her Voyage to the Un¬ 
known Isle. By G. Manville Fenn. With 8 full-page Illustrations. 
Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.00. 

“Jules Verne himself never constructed a more marvellous tale. It contains the 
strongly marked features that are always conspicuous in Mr. Fenn’s stories — a racy 
humor, the manly vigor of his sentiment, and wholesome moral lessons. For anything 
to match his realistic touch we must go to Daniel Defoe.”— Christian Leader. 

Yussuf the Guide. Being the Strange Story of the 

Travels in Asia Minor of Burne the Lawyer, Preston the Professor, 
and Lawrence the Sick. By G. Manville Fenn. With 8 full-page 
Illustrations by John Schonberg. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, $150. 

“ This story is tcld with such real freshness and vigor that the reader feels he is 
actually one of the party, sharing in the fun and facing th% dangers with them.” — Pall 
Mall Gazette. 

Under False Colours. By Sarah Doudney. With 

12 full-page Illustrations by G. G. Kilburne. Crown 8vo, handsomely 
bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“ Sarah Doudney has no superior as a writer of high-toned stories — pure in style, 
original in conception, and with skilfully wrought-out plots ; but we have seen nothing 
from this lady’s pen equal in dramatic energy to her latest work, * Under False Colours.’ ” 
— Christian Leader. 

Giannetta. A Girl’s Story of Herself. By Rosa 

Mulholland. With 8 full-page Illustrations by Lockhart Bogle. 
Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“Extremely well told and full of interest. Gianetta is a true heroine — warm¬ 
hearted, self-sacrificing, and, as all good women nowadays are, largely touched with the 
enthusiasm of humanity. The illustrations are unusually good. One of the most attrac¬ 
tive books of the season.”— The Academy. 



11 




POPULAR BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


Girl Neighbours : or, The Old Fashion and the New. 

By Sarah Tytler. With 8 full-page Illustrations by C. T. Garland. 
Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, #1.00. 

“ One of the most effective and quietly humorous of Miss Tytler’s stories. ‘ Girl 
Neighbours’ is a pleasant comedy, not so much of errors as of prejudices got rid of, very 
healthy, very agreeable, and very well written.” — Spectator. 

The Log of the “ Flying Fish.” A Story of Aerial 

and Submarine Peril and Adventure. By Harry Collingwood. 
With 12 full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo, 
handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

“ The * Flying Fish,’ that marvellous achievement of science, actually surpasses all 
Jules Verne’s creations; with incredible speed she flies through the air, skims over the 
surface of the water, and darts along the ocean bed. We strongly recommend our 
school-boy friends to possess themselves of her log.” — Athenceum. 

The Missing Merchantman. By Harry Colling¬ 
wood. With 8 full-page Pictures by W. H. Overend. Crown 8 vo, 
handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1,00. 

“ Mr. Collingwood is facile princeps as a teller of sea stories for boys, and the 
present is one of the best productions of his pen.” — Standard. 


The Rover’s Secret: A Tale of the Pirate Cays and 

Lagoons of Cuba. By Harry Collingwood. With 8 full-page Illus¬ 
trations by W. C. Symons. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine 
edges, $1.00. 

“ A book that will rejoice the hearts of most lads. We doubt whether, since the days 
of Captain Marryat, there has arisen a writer who combined fertility of invention in 
stirring episodes, with practical knowledge of seafaring life, in the degree to which 
Mr. Collingwood attains in this volume.” — Scottish Leader. 

The Pirate Island: A Story of the South Pacific. By 

Harry Collingwood. Illustrated by 8 full page Pictures by C. J. 
Staniland and J. R. Wells, in black and tint. Crown 8vo, hand¬ 
somely bound, $1.50. 

“ A capital story of the sea ; indeed, in our opinion, the author is superior, in some 
respects, as a marine novelist, to the better known M . Clarke Russell.” — The Times. 


The Congo Rovers : A Tale of the Slave Squadron. By 

Harry Collingwood. With 8 full-page Illustrations by J. Sch< 3 n- 
berg, in black and tint. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, $1.50. 

“ Mr. Collingwood carries us off for another cruise at sea, in ‘ The Congo Rovers,’ 
and boys will need no pressing to join the daring crew, which seeks adventures and 
meets with any number of them.” — The Ti>nes. 





12 


POPULAR BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


’Twixt School and College. A Tale of Self-Reliance. 

By Gordon Stables, C.M., M.D., R.N., author of “The Hermit Hunter 

of the Wilds,” etc. With 8 full-page Illustrations by W. Parkinson. 

Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

A story, the attractiveness of which lies less in the narration of startling adventures 
than in the incidents of home life which fill up the interval between the school life and 
college life of Fred Hallam. The hero is presented by his father with an outlying cottage 
and garden on the farm, and the gift is turned to pleasant account as a place of residence 
for a whole menagerie of pets dear to the heart of most healthy-minded boys. 

Hussein the Hostage : or, A Boy’s Adventures in 

Persia. By G. Norway. With 8 full-page Illustrations by John 

Schonberg. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

The narrative of the adventures of young Prince Hussein and his faithful follower, 
Askar, in their endeavor to free their oppressed tribe from the Persian yoke. The book 
has the same originality of conception and treatment which characterized the author’s 
previous story, — “ The Loss of John Humble.” 


The Loss of John Humble. What Led to It, and 

What came of It. By G. Norway. With 8 full-page Illustrations 
by John SchOnberg. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, 
#1.50. 

“ It is not every day that so fresh and real and appropriate a story for young people 
comes into the reviewer’s hands. . . . The people in the story are strongly individual¬ 
ized; the pictures of a Swedish home are charming, and the minute account of the life 
of the lost men is as realistic as Robinson Crusoe.” — Boston Literary World. 

Highways and High Seas. Cyril Harley’s Adven¬ 
tures on Both. By F. Frankfort Moore. With 8 full-page Illus¬ 
trations by Alfred Pearse. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine 
edges, $1.50. 

" It is pleasant to come across such honest work. The author breathes a vein of 
genuine humor, his Captain Chink being a real achievement in characterization.” — 
Scots Observer. 

Under Hatches : or, Ned Woodthorpe’s Adventures. 

By F. Frankfort Moore. With 8 full-page Illustrations by A. 
Forestier. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

The Wigwam and the War-Path. Stories of the Red 

Indians. By Ascott R. Hope. With 8 full-page Pictures by Gordon 
Browne. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine edges, $1.50. 

Silas Verney. Being the story of his adventures in 

the days of King Charles the Second. A Tale for Boys. By Edgar 
Pickering. Illustrated by Alfred Pearse. Crown 8vo, $1.25. 



POPULAR BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


13 


Down the Snow Stairs : or, From Good-night to 

Good-morning. By Alice Corkran. With 60 character Illustrations 
by Gordon Browne. Square crown 8vo, handsomely bound, olivine 
edges, $1.25. 

% 

“ Among all the volumes which the year has brought to our table, this one stands out 
facile princeps — a gem of the first water, bearing upon every one of its pages the signet 
mark of genius.” — Christian Leader. 

Margery Merton’s Girlhood. By Alice Corkran. 

With 6 full-page Illustrations by Gordon Browne. Crown 8vo, hand¬ 
somely bound, #1.25. 

“ Another book for girls we can warmly commend.” — Saturday Review. 

Thorndyke Manor. A Tale of Jacobite Times. By 

Mary C. Rowsell. With 6 full-page Illustrations by L. Leslie 
Brooke. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, $1.25. 

Thorndyke Manor is an old house, near the mouth of the Thames, which is conven¬ 
ient, on account of its secret vaults and situation, as the base of operations in a Jacobite 
conspiracy. In consequence, its owner, a kindly, quiet, book-loving squire, finds himself 
suddenly involved by a treacherous steward in the closest meshes of the plot. All diffi¬ 
culties are ultimately overcome, and his innocence is triumphantly proved. 

Cousin Geoffrey and I. By Caroline Austin. With 

6 full-page Illustrations by W. Parkinson. Crown 8vo, handsomely 
bound, $1.25. 

The only daughter of a country gentleman finds herself unprovided for at her father’s 
death, and for some time lives as a dependant. Life is kept from being entirely unbear¬ 
able to her by her cousin Geoffrey, who at length meets with a serious accident for which 
she is held responsible. In despair she runs away, and makes a brave attempt to earn 
her own livelihood, and succeeds in doing this, until the startling event which brings her 
cousin Geoffrey and herself together again. 

Laugh and Learn. The Easiest Book of Nursery 

Lessons and Nursery Games. By Jennett Humphreys. Charmingly 
Illustrated. Square 8vo, handsomely bound, $1.25. 

“ ‘ Laugh and Learn’ instructs and amuses; it is the very book for a wet day in the 
nursery, for besides solid instruction, admirably given, it contains numberless games and 
contrivances, with useful and amusing illustrations. The musical drill is remarkably 
good.” — Athenceum. 

Sir Walter’s Ward. A Tale of the Crusades. By 

William Everard. With 6 full-page Illustrations by Walter Paget. 
Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, $1.25. 


An Old Time Yarn. Adventures in the West Indies 

and Mexico with Hawkins and Drake. By Edgar Pickering. With 
6 full-page Illustrations by Alfred Pearse. Crown 8vo, £1.25. 

Hal Hungerford : or, the Strange Adventures of a 

Boy Emigrant. By J. R. Hutchinson. With 4 full-page Illustrations. 
Crown 8vo. Si.00. 



14 


POPULAR BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE. 


The Search for the Talisman. A Story of Labrador. 

By Henry Frith. With 6 full-page Illustrations by J. SchQnberg. 
Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, #1.25. 

Stories of Old Renown. Tales of Knights and Heroes. 

By Ascott R. Hope. With 100 Illustrations from designs by Gordon 
Browne. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, $1.25. 

Reefer and Rifleman. A Tale of the Two Services. 

By J. Percy-Groves, late 27th Inniskillings. With 6 full-page 
Illustrations by John Schonberg. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, 
#1.25. 

The War of the Axe: or, Adventures in South Africa. 

By J. Percy-Groves. With 4 full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, 
handsomely bound, $1.00. 

White Lilac. A Story of Two Girls. By Amy 

Walton, author of “Susan,” “The Hawthornes,” etc. With 4 full- 
page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, $1.00. 

Miss Willowburn’s Offer. By Sarah Doudney. 

With 4 full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, handsomely bound, $1.00. 

Hetty Gray: or, Nobody’s Bairn. By Rosa Mul- 

holland. With 4 full-page Illustrations. Crown 8vo, handsomely 
bound, $1.00. 

Four Little Mischiefs. By Rosa Mulholland. 

With 3 full-page Pictures in colors by Gordon Browne, i 2mo, 75 cts. 

The Late Miss Hollingford. By Rosa Mulholland. 

Illustrated. i2mo, 75 cts. 

Meg’s Friend. By Alice Corkran. With 6 full- 

page Illustrations by Robert Fowler. Crown 8vo, $1.25. 

Adventures of Mrs. Wishing-to-he. By Alice 

Corkran. With 3 full-page Pictures in colors. i2mo, 75 cts. 

Joan’s Adventures, at the North Pole and Elsewhere. 

By Alice Corkran. Illustrated. i2mo, 75 cts. 

Naughty Miss Bunny : Her Tricks and Troubles. 

By Clara Mulholland. With 3 Illustrations. i2mo, 75 cts. 




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